


There, And to What End Comes

by PickleDillo



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Love Triangles, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickleDillo/pseuds/PickleDillo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bo Baggins did the best she could in keeping her past from following her into her hobbit-hole. There was more to life than the edge of a blade and being hunted by Orcs, but as the weeks go on and she finds herself less of an asset and more of a burden, she'll forge her own path and Eru bless anyone stupid enough to follow her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To The Uninvited

 

**Chapter 1**

**A Hobbitess' Tale**

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure what he expected when the door swung open. The home itself had been odd, as all the other ones had been when he passed them on his travel. Mounds and hills hid windows and round doors, and the homes seemed to grow from the ground, under the roots and through the grass. So when he came upon the round green door, found Gandalf’s mark, he expected a small, portly fellow. All the other small folk had appeared the same with big feet, curly heads, and stomachs that tipped just beyond the safety of their vests and shirts.

The lass in front of him was nothing like that of her people.

“Dwalin,” he introduced himself with an almost breathless grumble, “at your service.”

A tick of her slender brow and wariness came into her blue eyes. Even so, she bowed at the waist politely, but her gaze remained nailed to his face. Her curly brown hair was pulled back into a braid that came around her neck and rested just below her collarbone. Her skin was sunburnt and freckled over her cheeks and nose. It was then he noticed the scar that tugged the left side of her face, pulling at her brow and eye into a half scowl. It marred her otherwise pleasant face.

“Bo Baggins,” she replied dutifully, “at yours. I beg your pardon, I wasn’t expecting visitors.” She came away from the door and moved toward him, toward the entrance, and for a moment Dwalin felt as if he should have stepped back. He didn’t, but the urge to give the little creature her space was there. She commands a space. She does not intimidate, but it is clear she is not shy. Wary. Curious.

“Clearly.” Dwalin answered. “I was told there was to be a meeting here.” His hand came up to the belt that crossed over his heart, and his fingers gripped lightly. Her gaze flickered over his furred shoulders and then down his arms, before coming back up and over his axes. She assessed him and took a cautious step back.

“A meeting?” She said lightly. “I don’t recall – the wizard.” She sighed and her eyes closed tightly. Tiny fingers came up and pinched the bridge of her nose. For a moment, her face pulled enough that the scar looked longer and deeper. Her hand came up and waved at him, “I’m sorry, Mister Dwalin, but – I had told the wizard I was to go on no more adventures. I have retired. Finished.”

“Retired?” Dwalin questioned before he could stop his tongue. Is that where her scar had come from? “How does one retire from adventuring?” The creature before him paused and considered her answer before her crooked fingers came up and tapped at her scar.

“Mine was an almost permanent retirement. I took the signs given to me and settled.” Blue eyes dared him to ask more, but he did not. He swallowed slightly and then cleared his throat. He bowed again, his axes clinking softly behind him.

“My sincerest apologies, mistress.” Dwalin said softly as he pulled up from his bow. “It seems we were told less than we expected.” At that, her face twisted and her hands came away from her sides and anchored at her hips.

“We? There are more of you? How many?” Her small and round face frowned and she stepped forward again, her gaze turned away from him and down the path he had come up, as if expecting more of his kin to appear from the shadows. He debated telling her the number, but decided against it. He was going to leave, and hopefully catch his kin before they came traipsing through the meadows and destroying what peace was left of the night. Indeed, the little creature was dressed in slacks and a loose dress shirt, and were it not for the length of her braid and the curve of her hip, he would have mistaken her at first glance for a bloke. Best to keep that bit of information to himself.

“A few,” Dwalin relented. “The wizard had told us to come to the Shire, look for a green door with his mark upon it, and that there would be supper.” For some reason, he felt ashamed to admit that the call of food had been an allure, aside from the quest itself. The little lass in front of him huffed and shook her curl covered head.

“Promises, promises. Very well, if there are to be more of you, I’m going to need some help.” The door swung open further and she gestured with a flick of her wrist for him to come inside. He hesitated over her doorstep, but soon obeyed. Once inside, she closed the door behind him and tightened the length of strings around her shirt, pulling it shut against his eyes or the cold, he wasn’t sure.

“Come on,” she commanded gently, though he could hear some annoyance in her voice. “If there are to be more of you, and you’ve come all this way, I’ll allow it.” Her voice faded as she moved toward the inner halls of her home and Dwalin minded his head as he followed her. “I’ll give that wizard a piece or two of my mind when he comes, if he comes. Heavens above, if he’s left me with a herd of dwarves to be dealt with on my lonesome, I’ll hunt him down myself!”

A small tug of a smile graced the corner of his mouth before he forced it down. She had taken him to her pantry and she inspected it with a critical eye. As he came around the corner, she waved at him and pointed toward his axes, “You can set those in the corner for the moment, by my sword there – yes, by that wall – now come, help me move the table. How many are there of you?” Her small voice twittered sharply like a bird’s call and Dwalin had to pull apart her words in his mind before answering her.

“Thirteen, mistress. Excluding the wizard and yourself.” Her blue eyes went wide and then narrowed, her mouth puckering and he could see the line of her jaw clench underneath the sunburnt skin. The little creature was far from happy, but she stood her ground and nodded her head with determination.

“Right. Are they all as tall as you?” She glanced at him again. Dwalin felt himself inhale at her gaze, mightily proud of his size. He shook his head at her and the tension in her shoulders lessened. She smiled at him and blew at a curl that came into her eyes.

“Good. Goodness, I wouldn’t know what to do with that much dwarf in my home.”

0o0

  
It was almost reassuring to know he wasn’t the only one taken by surprise at the sight of the lass. Balin had arrived not long after Dwalin had helped moved the chairs and table to fit the Company that would be coming, and to see his face when Bo Baggins opened the door had been priceless. It was the first time in a long while that he had seen his older brother trip over his words.

Bo had raised an eyebrow and she bowed, allowing him in. When the door was shut, she asked, “I have come to the conclusion that in his invitation to my home, Gandalf had failed to mention that I was either a hobbit, or a hobbit lady.”

“Well,” Balin cleared his throat after greeting Dwalin. “There is that, yes. When we had, er, heard of the name Bo, we assumed it would be a…”  
“Quite right, I would suppose.” Bo interrupted lightly, saving Balin from stepping any further into untested waters. They were guests in her home, and Dwalin had no doubts in his mind that she could just as readily herd them out of her den as she could shut her door behind them. There was a spit of fire in her actions that left a burn on everything she did. Whether from her ire at having to entertain guests at such a late hour, or she was just naturally molded that way, he could not know.

“If you would be so kind,” she started and pointed a crooked finger at her pantry, “as to start removing the food from there and onto the table, I would be grateful.” Balin shared a look with his brother, but they moved to accommodate her request. Another knock at the door turned her away from studiously watching them work and back to her front porch. Dwalin could hear the door swing open and he wondered for a moment which of the Company it could be.

“You must be… Mrs. Boggins?” Dwalin nearly laughed aloud at the confusion that colored the young prince’s voice. The heavy sigh that followed weakened his hold and he chuckled. Balin, too, gave in to laughter and they walked out to spy the sight of two very confused princes in the stern gaze of the home’s mistress.

“It’s Baggins,” she corrected them, “Bo Baggins, if you would be so kind. Set your swords there, against the others, and – watch where you track that mud!” Kili promptly clicked his feet together and Dwalin could see why. The boy’s boots were completely muddy, but the hobbit’s sharp eyes had caught him trying to clean them off upon her furniture. Dwalin came up and clapped the boy upon the shoulder.

“You know better than that, laddie.” Dwalin scolded him. Fili and Kili gave him wide and happy grins, content to forget their things in the grip of their hostess. With a roll of her eyes, Bo resolutely dropped the weapons upon the ground, not giving a care as to where they went. Too right, Dwalin supposed, as the boys had just deposited the items into her arms without as much as a care for her person.

“Mister Dwalin!” Kili greeted cheerily, “Mister Balin!” He said as his gaze found the older brother. “Good to see you once more, and in good health!”

“Hush, boy.” Balin ordered with a stern tone. “Set the table, find some chairs. Hurry, before the rest of the Company arrives.” It was not to be so, Dwalin feared, as the door’s bell rang from outside and Bo frowned. A hand came up to her scar and gently ran down the length of it before she returned to the door.

“If this is some block head’s idea of a joke, I’ll –” Bo muttered as the door was yanked open. Almost instantly, a wave of dwarves flushed into her home and with a high squeak, she leapt away from the entrance and huddled behind the door for protection. Dwalin snorted a laugh, a lass after all, it seems. She scowled heavily in his direction, more than likely having heard his laughter, but her blue blazing eyes immediately went to the wizard.

“I have half a mind to slice that beard right off your face with my trusty sword for the night you’ve put me through,” Bo threatened, but there was no venom in her tone. “And for goodness sake, what happened to taking turns?”

Her only response was Bofur holding up the small rope to her bell.

“This is just how it’s going to be, isn’t it?”

* * *

**Notes:** _The first couple of chapters are short. After the introduction is over, they will get longer, trust me. If you don't wish to wait, this story is posted up a bit further on ff.net, same name, same author. Let me know what you think!_

 


	2. A Home All Her Own

**Chapter 2**

  
**A Home All Her Own**   


* * *

 

Bo found it almost comical how quickly her pantry had been raided. The food painted her longest table within her home and the dwarves surrounded it, armored and rowdy. She watched with a small cup of tea in her hands as bits of food flew across the open space, some landed in plates, others bounced off and rolled past her into the hall she stood in, and a few were caught with open mouths. She clenched her teeth together and sipped her tea through tight lips, desperately trying to calm her nerves. They tested her patience, but there had been worse things to come by. Another boiled egg flew through her line of sight and she winced as it found no catcher, smashing into the wall behind a dwarf’s head.

Another tight sip.

As they continued to eat, she made a quick check on her home. The carpets were muddy and sticking to the floor from the added weight. The pantry, of course, she knew to be a picked-clean corpse of what it once was, and as she came to the washroom, she paused. _Heavens, no. I shan’t be going in there._ The smell alone would curl her toes straight off her feet. She silently made her way back toward the dining area, not a single dwarf having noticed her disappearance. She glanced at Gandalf and all the wizard could give her was a small smile. _Oh yes, do find this humorous. You won’t be here for the aftermath of such a gathering._ The idea of cleaning up such a disastrous event turned her stomach.

“You know,” Bo said gently as the wizard past her, the dwarves now having the presence of mind to roam through her house after their meal, “You still haven’t told me what these guests are doing in my house.”

Gandalf avoided her question, “My dear, I find them to be quite the entertaining sort. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, yes.” Bo answered; her voice light. “Now tell me, is this before or after my mother’s old heirlooms are broken?”

“Hold, Mistress Baggins!” One of the dwarves called to her. She turned, careful to keep her forgotten cup of tea away from the looming figure. A blond dwarf, perhaps this one was Fili? He grinned at her. “We’re a good bunch, we can pick up after ourselves without a single crack to your wares!”

“Excuse me?” One of them interrupted. Bo sighed and turned to him, his bowl cut a distraction to her gaze before she focused on his face. He pouted his lower lip to her as she tried to remember his name. _Ori? Or was it Nori?_ Goodness. He smiled lightly at her. “What should I do with my plate?”

Bo went to take the plate, but Fili proved faster. His hand snatched it from her fingertips. “Here, Ori, we’ll handle this! Kili!” Much to her surprise, the other brother appeared from the curves of her walls, as if waiting. She watched as her plate was tossed and she winced.

“If you could please,” Bo pleaded, “try _not_ to do that! Those dishes are over a hundred years old and precious!”

“Easy,” Kili grinned at her, his humor a bounce to his movement. “You can trust us with a few plates! Your forks and knives will come to no harm.”

“You’ll blunt them!” Bo said with some exasperation. Honestly, it was as if the words went through one ear and out the window. Then, a collective mischief quaked through them and her plates were tossed over her head and around her home. She ducked, her tea cup left on the table before her as they dwarves played with her cutlery.

Their voices broke out into song and Bo was amazed to see the organization that came with the tune. She hurried into the kitchen, frightened that her best plates were left in a misshapen pile of shards all over the floor and table. She stopped short, among the group of laughing dwarves, to see that her heirlooms remained intact.

Bo could feel the flush of heat come into her cheeks and touch the tips of her ears. She shook her head and her hand came up and rubbed against the side of her face, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Well I’ll be… worried for not, it would seem.” A few grinned at her, the others laughed, but their merriment was broken up by harsh knocks upon her door.

The liveliness they once displayed disappeared in a wink of an eye and the room grew quiet. Gandalf turned to her, his expression turned stiff and ominous. “He… is here.” Bo frowned, unsure of whom the last visitor could be. She followed Gandalf to her front door, huffing as he opened it. _Whose home is this again?_ She wondered not for the first time. The door swung to one side and Bo found herself at the center of her entryway, the other dwarves having molded themselves to the side of her hall against the walls.

A few of them bowed their heads in passing to the newcomer as they made eye contact. It was a curious action, and Bo’s gaze moved back to reassess the latest addition to the gathering. He was tall, but not to the height of Dwalin (much to her relief), and broad shouldered. It was almost alarming until his coat was removed and she saw that some of his bulk came from the fur along his shoulders. His boots clung heavily against her floor and mud flaked from them. Bo sighed again; it will look like a farm in here by the time they leave.

She remained ignored, though, as the newcomer spoke to Gandalf. Bo felt her chest huff a bit more. She was the mistress of this home; she would not be ignored for long. “A mark? How? I painted that door myself a week ago.”

“There is a mark.” Gandalf interjected meekly. “I put it there, myself.”

“Did you, now?” Bo accused him and turned her blue gaze to him. He looked mildly ashamed, but it did practically nothing to appease her disappointment in the defacement of her property. Gandalf cleared his throat and placed his hands in front of him, his head tilted toward the new arrival. “Bo Baggins, if you would allow me to introduce the leader of this company… Thorin Oakenshield.”

Bo turned to face the dwarf. His expression was stone, set and rough. It was hard to tell if he was displeased at her appearance, or at Gandalf’s introduction. “So…” Thorin began with a step toward her. “This is the hobbit?” His icy blue eyes turned up to the wizard. “Bo Baggins… is a woman.”

“Who is well within earshot, thank you.” Bo interrupted with a clipped tone. A hushed murmur echoed through her home from the other dwarves. No, she did not care what they thought of her speaking to their leader in such a way. This was her home, and to the highest mountain’s peak with anyone who would treat her like a child in her home.

Even so, the look that Thorin pinned her with was not unkind, just unwelcoming of her interjection. She stood her ground, but lowered her shoulders. She knew a challenge when she saw one, and her sword was well stashed away in another hallway. “I have noticed.” Thorin replied with a deep growl. Bo pulled her lips together tight.

“And have you done much fighting, then?” Thorin questioned roughly. He circled her and it took a jerk of her neck to keep her gaze from following him around. She would not be intimidated. This was her home and she would repeat it to herself as many times as needed. “Axe or sword, aye? Which is her preference?” The last was directed at Gandalf as the dwarf stopped before her once more.

“I am quite the expert at conkers,” Bo snapped with her chin lowered and her brow furrowed over her nose. “But if you are truly interested, then it is a sword. Better balanced for my form.” She answered truthfully. The dwarf stopped and turned to her with an eyebrow raised with distrust. Bo raised her left hand, the last two fingers on her palm crooked.

“Hilt broke, I panicked and punched him.” She answered and then stretched her fingers to show that her injury did not hinder her movement, at least, not all that much.

Thorin crossed his arms and smirked. “You look to be more of a maid than a burglar.”

_A burglar!_

Bo whipped her head around to Gandalf and the wizard could only shrug, already looking exhausted.

The dwarves had gathered into her dining room. Candles were lit and the room was dim as Thorin was seated at the end of the table, his back to the hall. Bo shuddered midly, how must he stand it, to have his back to an opening like that? In a stranger’s home, no less? She paused to listen, intrigued by their discussion.

“You are going on quest?” She asked before she could stop her tongue. The room grew quiet for a beat which prompted Gandalf to turn to her.

“Bo, my good girl, would you get us a little more light?”

With a small nod, Bo left from the room and found a few spare candles. She tipped them into the ones that were already lit and returned. Carefully, she placed them out for the wizard and did her best to keep her arm away from the dwarf at the end of her table. A map was stretched out and Bo leaned over gently to view it.

“The Lonely Mountain?” Bo read from the map quietly. “I know of that mountain.” She ignored the look half of the dwarves gave her, but not the one that came up from her right side. She glared lightly at Thorin. “I am of the Shire, but I am not ignorant. The Lonely Mountain was the home to Erebor, one of the greatest kingdoms among the dwarves.”

“Your mother?” Gandalf asked with a smile.

Bo returned it. “Of course, my mother. How else do you think I ended up this way?”

“Then perhaps this will not take as much time to explain as we originally determined.” Balin said with a huff.

* * *

 

 


	3. A Burglar's Worth

  
**Chapter 3** _  
_   


**A Burglar's Worth**

* * *

_Erebor._ To think they were going to attempt to travel all that way, and for what? She listened to them as they sat along her table. One arm folded across her stomach and gripped the opposite side of her blouse. An elbow rested upon her wrist and her hand held one side of her face as she pondered their story. Her crooked fingers smoothed over the scar that came down along her face, an instinctive action she no longer noticed. Now and again, her gaze would flicker back to the table, and she found herself recounting the heads of her visitors.

_Homeless. Wanderers._

She knew that wasn’t completely true, though. They had made homes and communities for themselves in the distant mountains. The Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills came to mind, and again she wondered, _why bother? For gold? Fame?_ To her hobbit-y nature, such an endeavor seemed foolish. They _had_ homes. They had families, why would they risk their lives on the slim chance that the dragon could be dead and they could retake their kingdom. She tapped the scar on the side of her face and sighed.

_And I am to be their burglar? I’ve been a border patroller for a long while, but a burglar? Hardly._ The idea unnerved her. _Against a dragon?_ What was she to do, then? Slip in and pray to the heavens that she would go unnoticed? Another, heavier sigh; and she rubbed the soft edge of her brow over her eyes. This was pure madness, and in no ways did she see this working out to the best results.

The eldest dwarf was correct, thirteen dwarves would not suffice against a dragon, nor for a venture such as the one they had planned. She shook her but jumped from her ankles as there was a sudden eruption of chatter among them. She turned, annoyed at the display of bad manners. She stepped forward to address them, but Thorin stood first and shouted. They stilled, and one by one, they sat.

“Well,” Bo interrupted before Thorin could say more. “I will warn you, one more outburst like that and you should find yourselves with a tail to the door.” A few, the youngest of them, appeared to be mindful of her words, but the others tipped their heads to her in disbelief. She raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t think my mother hasn’t taught me a thing or two about throwing a heavy boot.” She replied to the expressions of disbelief. Gandalf chuckled and sucked on his pipe, pleased by her assertion. Thorin was not so charmed, his stone face neutral and he turned back to his kin.

“If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too?” He stopped and glanced at his kindred, and Bo could see some of them turn their gaze away from their un-crowned king. She swallowed, well aware of what type of look that was, having received a few of them from her mother.

“Rumours have begun to spread, the dragon has not been seen for over sixty years.” Thorin’s voice rumbled through her small dining room and into the hallway. Despite being behind him, she could hear him clearly. His voice could carry in a great hall, that much she could picture.

“Perhaps,” Thorin continued, Bo nearly slipping away in thought, “the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours, or do we seize this chance and _take back_ Erebor? _Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!_ ” She could not understand the last of his words, but the crowd of dwarves rallied.

“You forget!” Balin interrupted, bringing the cheering to a stop. “The front gate is _sealed_. There is no way into the mountain.” A moment of sad relief came to Bo, the adventure disappearing from the eyes of the dwarves as soon as the words were said.

“That, my dear Balin,” Gandalf interjected with a small amount of smugness, “is not entirely true.” Then from his fingers, as if he was the burglar, Gandalf produced a sharp and dark iron key from within his sleeve. Bo peered at it, but Thorin took it up within his fingers. The dwarf held the key like shattered glass and sighed with a breathless exhale.

Bo stepped away from the entrance into her dining room and her fingers once again found her scar. For every moment of relief she found that she would not go along on this adventure, the obstacle was taken down and shattered. She couldn’t do this, not now. Her eyes closed with pain as a slow trickle of memories lapped like waves at the back of her mind. _No._

“That’s why we need a burglar!”

Immediately, Bo snapped back to the conversation, and she whirled around to find the company staring at her. She felt her cheeks burn under her skin with a flush of embarrassment. For a brief tick of time, she remembered how messy her braided hair was and she nervously reached up and held the end of it.

“And are you?” Her eyes flickered to the redheaded dwarf, Gloin.

Bo raised her chin, “Am I what? An expert? Heavens, I –”

“She said she’s an expert!” Oin announced cheerily, much to the amusement of the others who laughed at the outburst. Her cheeks took on a harsher tint of red under her sunburnt cheeks, the heat travelled up to the tips of her pointed ears.

“I’m not a burglar!” Bo said into the laughter, silencing them. “I never have been. The worse I’ve stolen is food from the local farmers as a little one!” Gandalf grinned at her admission and she felt a roll of defeat come along her shoulders. “Gandalf, please, don’t do this! I have no skill with locks, or pickpocketing!”

“But you have one with a blade,” Dwalin called into the conversation, his dark eyes on her. She froze, unsure of how to answer him. She swallowed and nodded with a heavy head, her head turned to glance down her hallway, into the darkness.

“A blade,” She said softly and brought her gaze back to them. “One that I have retired.”

“Aye, and the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves anymore.” He concluded with a nod of his head. Bo felt the rise of indignation come from the pit of her stomach and she stepped forward toward him. Thorin leaned to one side, to look at her as she came closer, but Dwalin did not sway in his seat.

“Do _not_ accuse me of uselessness.” Bo said in a low voice. Dwalin’s brow rose in surprise from her bluntness, but she was near the end of her rope with their manners, their assumptions, and their disregard for her home and patience. “I have nothing to prove to you, or them, I have paid my dues to home and people, so –” A gentle, weathered hand came to the small of her back and she paused.

“My dear girl,” Gandalf soothed. “He meant no offense. Please, be calm.” A slow inhale entered her lungs, her gaze never wavering from Dwalin’s until she held her breath and released it softly. She stepped away and cracked her fingers within her palm.

_Bloody dwarves._

“Gandalf,” Balin said into the silence, “Miss Baggins will be of no –”

“ **Enough!** ” Gandalf growled, and Bo looked back to see her candles flicker from his presence and a darkness came into her home. “ **If I say Bo Baggins is a burglar…** then a burglar she is.” Bo exhaled and the tension fled from her body once Gandalf had retaken his seat along the table. The old wizard sighed, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose.”

Gandalf turned to look at her, “And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a _hobbit_ is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” Gandalf came to Thorin, his brow furrowed and his voice gentle. “You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she has a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including herself. You _must_ trust me on this.”

There was a long moment, Thorin searched Gandalf’s face. He exhaled roughly through his nose and nodded to Balin, “Give her the contract.”

_No, no, no!_

* * *

 


	4. With Fear, Comes Bravery

**Chapter 4**

**With Fear, Comes Bravery**

* * *

The contract had unfolded in her hands and dropped just a few inches from the floor. Her brow rose over her eyes and she stepped back to hold it out, to inspect the length. Well then, no cause for concern that something won’t be a miss. Best to read it, though. She did, and paced as she did so. Balin chuckled lightly at the sight of her, “It’s just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so forth.”

“I saw,” Bo said quietly, her brow still furrowed. She turned to look up at Balin. “A plaque of my choosing? A bit hard, no, considering I would be dead?” There was a short pause, but the one named Bofur laughed first, and the others followed with chuckles and snickering. Bo smiled lightly at Balin, “It wouldn’t be necessary, in any case.” She looked back to the contract.

“Unnecessary?” Balin asked politely, the smallest hint of concern coloring his voice. Bo only answered him with a hum and continued to read. From the corner of her eye, she spied the leader of the troupe leaned toward Gandalf, but she could not hear the whispered conversation. Gandalf pulled away, saddened and nodded.

“One fourteenth of the profit?” Bo asked herself quietly. “Fair… not be liable… lacerations… evisceration… incineration? Dear,” She sighed heavily and the contract went slack in her grip for a moment as she peered up at her ceiling.

“Oh, aye.” Bofur answered her, “He’ll melt the flesh off your bones, lass, in the blink of an eye.”

Bo inhaled and held it tightly within her lungs for a moment. “I would imagine so,” she replied breathlessly, “he _is_ a dragon.” Her hand came up to her forehead and she could feel the heat of anxiety through her skin. She could hear the dwarf continue on, but her ears were ringing and she closed her eyes.

A flash of steel, and then a scream. Her name was being called, but she could not move. She could feel the cold fingers of a blade against her back once more and she shuddered. Panic started to rise within her chest and her breathing hitched.

“Bo!” Gandalf’s voice rung through the fog of memories and she snapped back to reality, shaken. The dwarves at the table appeared alarmed; the youngest looked ready to jump the table to seize her, and the older ones gave her curious stares. She turned to Gandalf and felt the small trail of a tear down her cheek.

“I’m…” She choked on her words. “I’m sorry… I’ll be alright. I…” She turned away from them and stumbled to her den. “I need to sit for a moment.” She soon found herself in the comfort of her armchair and Gandalf was not far behind. He murmured something to Dori, and the dwarf nodded before quickly disappearing. She held her forehead in her hands.

“Bo, my girl…” Gandalf called soothingly. “Are they very bad?”

“Not usually.” Bo answered as she knew what he referred to, “I… I cannot do this, Gandalf. I cannot come with you. I have a fear… fear of battles, of fire, of fighting.” She shook her head and looked up to him, her eyes bright with tears. “I am not the same lass you knew when she was young. I have no bravery left in me to follow in your adventure. I need to sit… I need to stay here, in the quiet.”

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long, I fear.” Gandalf said as he stood beside her. Dori arrived and she wiped away her tears before accepting his offer of tea. She smiled at him and the dwarf hesitated before he bowed and returned the smile. He left with a nod to Gandalf. She sipped quietly and Gandalf sighed, “I know that after your parents… you deemed it wise to settle down, but I feel as if such a decision may have made your memories darker.”

“I cannot grieve on the battlefield. I cannot grieve with a sword in my hand. I've tried, remember?” Her voice was sharp with pain, but Gandalf tried to soothe her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Your mother would not want you locked away with dollies and dishes, Bo Baggins.”

Bo gave him a tight look from the corner of her eye. “And this is what I am, Gandalf, a _Baggins._ I became a respectable hobbit, I don’t get strange looks anymore when I walk through the market, or jests of my habits while in my garden…”

“You are also a _Took,”_ Gandalf added, his gaze firm. She rolled her eyes and shook her head and he held up his hand, “Do you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?”

“Yes,” Bo said acquiescingly. “And ponies are real, Gandalf. Just smaller.”

“But a horse, Bo!” Gandalf said with a shake of his fist. “And he had no fear riding into battle, saving the day, and inventing a game at the same time.”

“Gandalf,” She snorted softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You made that up.”

“And so what if I truly did?” He countered, now before her and leaning down to her level. “Good stories are worth telling with embellishment, my dear girl, and your story would need none, should you choose to follow it.”

“Gandalf,” Bo sighed, her eyes turned toward the fire.

“Bo,” He returned, “Your life is out there, in the woods and the fields, not in your books or your maps left here at home.”

“I almost didn’t come back last time, Gandalf.” Bo replied fearfully. “And the contract makes it clear; I may not come back at all, even in pieces. I’m sorry, my wizard friend, I cannot do this.” Gandalf’s gaze did not leave her face for a time, but when he finally looked away, Bo felt the heavy bag of guilt lay upon her back. She stood, ashamed of her decision even though she felt it right, and moved away from the fire and the warmth of her den. The dwarves were gathered around her home, in the halls, and she avoided their eyes.

_I am too afraid._

She closed the door to her bedroom behind her and then with hesitation, locked it. She moved to her bed and dropped into the mattress, her back burning as her muscles uncoiled. A small huff escaped her; I was wound up for battle. Some habits will never die, it seems. The night grew darker and she stood to ready for sleep, but paused.

A low rumbling echoed through her home. She moved to her door and with a quiet click, unlocked it and peered out into the empty hall. There was nothing, so she moved to return to her routine, when she heard them. Their voices, deep and resonating like thunder. She swallowed and listened, enraptured.

_If you are capable of helping someone, her mother’s voice scolded her, so then you must help, in all ways possible. Your strength may just be the tipping stone._

_I have no strength left, mother_. Bo whispered into her memories. _What can one hobbit do for a troupe of dwarves far more skilled than I?_

_Try._

* * *

__


	5. A Small Request

**Chapter 5**

**A Small Request**

* * *

 

Bo had sat in the darkness of her bedroom until the fire died down and the moon spied in through her windows. She huddled under her blankets and stared at her ceiling, her thoughts a small hurricane within her mind. The Tookish side of her blood tickled under her skin and her fingers curled into the edge of her cover. _I’ll try, Mother. One last time, if I must._ She slipped into an uneasy sleep and awoke before the rise of the sun over the hill. There were quiet snores that came from around her house, the den packed with the bodies of the Company. She smiled wanly and moved toward her kitchen.

In the cozy closeness of her kitchen, she giggled against her knuckles and tried to keep herself quiet. A few of the dwarves, it appeared to be Nori and Gloin, were fast asleep upon her table. She gently reached over and tugged Nori’s shoulders back and she pulled away a plate from under his cheek. He snorted awake and his hand shot out to grip her wrist. She jumped slightly and waited, frightened.

“Oh, sorry lass,” Nori said gently, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Gave me a start, is all.”

“So it would seem.” Bo said, and tugged at his hold. “Would you kindly?” He released her with a twitch, like a flame burnt his palm. She smiled at him and shook her head. She shifted and shuffled her way around Gloin. “Would you like to help me with breakfast, Master… Nori, was it?”

“Aye, little one.” He nodded and stood with a harsh screech of her chair. She winced, but appreciated his eagerness despite the sleep still in his eyes. He stomped over toward her, his heavy boots a clank against the hardwood floors, loud enough for Gloin to pop away from the surface of her table.

“Oh, aye!” Gloin said in surprise and blearily turned his gaze up to Nori. “Who, what?”

“Wake up, you great oaf. Help the lass with breakfast. You are in the way of her fireplace.” Nori commanded with humor. Gloin turned his head and found the fireplace and chuckled. He quickly removed himself from Bo’s table and she smiled at him also as he walked past her into the den.

Bo fried eggs and cooked sausages. Tomatoes were cut with Nori’s help and some biscuits were salvaged from her private stash. She giggled at Nori’s raised eyebrow and she shrugged. “A good hobbit always has extra.” Nori laughed and patted her heartily on the shoulder. Soon breakfast was up and Bo fretted for a moment on the amount. It seemed enough for her and a handful of relatives, but thirteen dwarves?

“Oi!” Nori called into the den. “Up and to your feet, lads, the mistress has breakfast on the table!” No sooner had Nori called to his friends that Bo found her kitchen entrance stuffed with a few bodies. She laughed and hurriedly moved into the corner of her kitchen as they piled into the room and filled her table.  
“You found more food?” Kíli murmured with disbelief. Bo gave him a small smile and tilted her head to one side. Fíli dropped down beside his brother and huffed, “I don’t believe she’s going to tell us how she acquired more food, brother.”

“Leave the mistress alone,” Dwalin’s rough voice came from the den. Their gazes turned to the elder and Dwalin walked past them with a straight spine. “She’s feeding you, be grateful, after the night we’ve put her through.” The other dwarves parted way for him and he took a seat at the end of her table and pulled a plate toward him.

Well.

 _That was certainly unexpected_. She followed the taller dwarf with a curious gaze, but she remained in her corner, making no move to question him. Kíli and Fíli murmured their thanks and devoured their food like starved children. She felt her brow tick by her scar at the sight and she fought a smile that tugged at her lips.

The last of the Company entered, and Thorin came to stand opposite of her, the table and dwarves separated them. “A kind send-off,” Thorin nodded his head to her lightly. “I did not expect to see you up so early in the morning.”

“Yes, well.” Bo couldn’t hide her embarrassment. Her gaze turned away to the window just above her washing bin and she sighed. “I decided to come with you all.” Silence flooded the room suddenly; a few forks and knives clinked as they dropped softly from the mouths of their wielders. Bo fidgeted with the attention. “I only have a request.”

“About the contract?” Balin interrupted softly. “There’s not much that can be changed about that, lass.”

Bo shook her head. “No, no. The contract… is fine. I only wish that you give me an hour before we leave. I must amend my will, so that the appropriate relatives will receive their dues.” She wouldn’t delve into the history she had with her less than savory relatives just down the way, but there were a few cousins that she knew who would benefit from her home.

“Don’t plan to come back, lass?” Bofur’s voice was soft and curious. His hat made her smile, but now that he was without, the braids that framed his face were charming.

“If I don’t come back, best to make sure my… what I have left of a legacy does not become lost in the mayhem and what-if’s.” Bo returned just as softly. She glanced around her kitchen, faint memories of her mother’s voice wafting through her thoughts. “I am my family’s only child, the only Baggins left in Bag End.”

“There is no one else?” Thorin asked suddenly and his gaze hardened. Bo stuttered for a moment and shook her head. Thorin gruffly murmured, “Then why come at all? Your family name will disappear with you, should you find your end before returning home.”  
“My name will find its end here just as well,” Bo replied, her tone firm. She would not argue with him on going, not when she already made her decision. “I have no spouse, no child of my own, and no heir apparent. I am, and shall be regardless of the quest, the only Baggins until the end of my days.”

The mood turned somber at her explanation and some of the dwarves shared heavy looks between themselves. Bombour, the more robust one, shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Bofur next to him cast him with a look to steady the movement. Bo kept her gaze upon Thorin and for a moment, it appeared in his eyes; he understood. He nodded to her and stepped out of the entrance with a hand held out behind him.

She quickly escaped the kitchen.

 0o0

It took her a little longer than an hour to set about fixing her will. Over and over she checked it, to make sure the home would be left in the best of hands. She heard footsteps behind her, soft and solid. Her ears flickered at their tips gently and she glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t see his face, but she needn’t to, the long, white beard was enough to know.

“Ready, lass?” Balin asked. Bo hesitated for a heart’s beat and then nodded. She turned and stood, rolling the paper up in her hands. She placed it on top of her pack beside her. The poor thing looked close to bursting with all the supplies she had placed in it. She took a step toward the dwarf, then stopped, her blue gaze on him.

“Will you be my witness?” Bo politely whispered. “I need two, and Gandalf has agreed to be the first.”

Balin rocked on his heels slightly in surprise. “Aye, lass. I can do that for you, but… why? Does not a witness need to be someone who can be trusted to account for your affairs?”

“Yes.” Bo answered readily and with a sigh. “But any other family that I may trust is in Brandybuck, or further. I have not the time to send them a summons, and Old Took – I cannot bother him with this, he will see to it that I remain here.”

“Old Took?” Balin asked with a huff of laughter. “And what is that?”

“Thrain of the Shire. Old Took resides over Tookborough and they answer to him, out of respect or love, one could say. He’s a relative of mine.” Bo replied with a short tone and shuffled past Balin with her pack in one hand. Balin watched her go and frowned thoughtfully.

“An authority for your people?” Balin followed her, his question almost missed.

“We are not lawless.” Bo answered with a soft snort. She moved down her halls with a familiarity that Balin could not predict and he was nearly lost among the turns she took. “Should any have a dispute that we cannot settle ourselves, we seek Old Took, the Mayor of Michel Delving in the White Downs, or the Master of Buckland. They are the authority figures within our lands. Old Took, though, is a relative some generations removed.”

“A relative, you say?” Balin inquired with clear curiosity. “My, there is more to you than Gandalf may have shared.” More and more of the young thing before him became apparent, but Bo was glad to see that he held in his curiosity at her connections. She slowed as she came down a faraway hall, dark with only a candle or two to light it.

Bo stopped by a storage closet and sighed. “Perhaps… a bit more than just that.” Within the closet was a cloth draped over a small set of leather armor. She pulled it out and ignored Balin’s raised eyebrows. Carefully and swiftly, with practiced ease, she brought the leather down from the mounts and hooked them onto her body. The leather came across her chest and she tightened it, the arm braces, the leg covers, thigh covers. Capable of moving quickly, but at least she would be protected.

She shouldered her pack and turned to Balin.

He grinned. “Well, shall we?”

The rest of the Company had waited outside. The ponies crowded the lane and trailed down the walkway, and a few of the passing hobbits on the lower roads stared as they walked past the group. A chuckle came from within the group, “Well look it there, lads. The little mistress has herself some protection!” Bofur’s voice sounded happy at the little detail.

Bo rolled her eyes. “Of course I do, I was a border patroller for some time before you lot came around. I’ve… left the Shire a few times.” She hefted her pack onto her shoulders and hustled her way through the crowd and past the ponies. The others followed, but Fíli and Kíli found their way to her side.

“A border patroller, what’s that?” Kíli asked while he trotted next to her. She slowed once she realized that she was determinately leading a march down to the Bagshot homes.

“… a person who patrols the borders?” Bo couldn’t help but answer with a laugh. Kíli frowned while Fíli snickered into his shoulder, his gaze turned away from his younger brother. She took pity on the young dwarf. “After the Fell Winter back in 2911, I took up arms and armor to protect my people.”

“Fell Winter?”

“What happened?”

“Was it very bad?”

“What did you fight?”

“Lads!” Bofur interrupted and artfully stepped in between them and Bo, to keep them at bay. Bo sighed in relief; the bombardment of questions had taken her off her guard. Bofur placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and continued to move her forward, further away from the inquiring youngsters. “Leave the little mistress be, would you? Poor creature, drown her in your insatiable questioning.”

The boys looked appropriately chastened and quietened in their march behind her. Bofur remained close to her side and offered her a smile when she looked up to him and mouthed a silent thank you for his interference. He only nodded his head and the troupe came along behind them. Soon, the home she was looking for appeared in her line of sight and she made a quick shot for the gate before the hobbit hole.

“Miss Baggins!” A little voice called out to her. Bo could not stop the grin that spread across her scarred face and as the gate flew open, she dropped to a knee and giggled along with the little hobbit now in her arms.

“Hamfast!” Bo smiled, “Up so early! What made you rise with the sun today, little one?”

Hamfast turned sour. “Papa. He said I was to learn gardening some more today. I –” His little voice cut short and he practically dove into her slender shoulder once his gaze had come up to the dwarves behind her. Bo chuckled and patted the top of his head gently.

“Hamfast,” Bo said softly to the young child, “Could you find your papa for me? I must speak to him, it is urgent.” No sooner had she said the words when Hamfast nodded with a jerk and turned to fly back into his hobbit home. Balin and Gandalf moved forward and waited; now they understood why they had stopped.

Hobson came with a stumble over his entrance, Hamfast held tight to his father’s fingers. Bo smiled gently and hoped that her relaxed greeting would put Hobson at ease with the presence of so many at his front gate. Hobson brought down his hat and bowed to her slightly, surprise clear on his face.

“Mistress Baggins?” Hobson inquired softly. “Hamfast came in with such a fright…”

“I’m so sorry, my friend. It was my fault. I should have asked my companions to wait further along the hill.” Bo replied with a small tilt of her chin down to her chest. She straightened and made way for Balin and Gandalf. “There is… something I would like to discuss with you, if you would be so kind as to give me a spare moment of your morning, old friend.”

“For you, Mistress,” Hobson smiled weakly, his eyes flickered among the dwarves behind her, “I have all the time in the world.”

* * *

 


	6. A Spirited Walk

**Chapter 6**

**A Spirited Walk**

* * *

The home belonging to Hobson and his family was along the same hill as that of Bo, but the hole was smaller, and didn’t delve as deeply as Bag End. As such, her request had to be done outside, in Hobson’s lush garden. Gandalf read out her will to Hobson, and Bo turned her gaze to the garden and little Hamfast who rolled in the dirt happily (now that his father was distracted). She smiled lightly at Hobson’s gasp, the Sackville-Baggins earning nothing of her home or valuables. As the will was read, Balin made careful work of the contract as he sat beside Bo, scratching out words and took his quill to the pronouns. With the appropriate words marked, initialed, and agreed upon (with a nod of her head, as she had been reading over his shoulder), the paper work was finished.

“Is this to be true, Miss Baggins?” Hobson’s asked, his worried gaze turned from Gandalf, who held the will up to read, and came to her.

Bo nodded. “Yes. Bag End shall be in your care, keys and all, for two years. Should I not return at that point, my home and all the belongings there in will be passed along to my nearest cousin who has the oldest heir. The Sackvilles have no claim now, until a year after the first two, should no family member otherwise be eligible. Agreed, Mister Gamgee?”

Hobson nodded tightly. “Aye, missus. Agreed. I’ll sign for you, and send the will to Old Took.” Bo smiled and nodded, the will was signed by both Gandalf and Balin, before Hobson nervously signed his name in along the bottom. He rolled the parchment up and safely tucked it into his arm. “Come, Hamfast. Let’s find your mother. Say goodbye to Miss Baggins!”

Hamfast stopped dead in his adventuring and turned to Bo, his little legs carried him toward her heavily. His face was sour and his brow dropped over his eyes as he peeked up at her through his curls. “Must you really go, Miss Baggins?”

“I’m afraid so, little one.” Bo brushed his hair lightly. She knew that normally a formal distance would need to be kept between her and the other, less fortunate hobbits, but the idea of never coming home again frightened her. The curls upon Hamfast’s head, the garden, and the sound of the Shire would be drilled into her thoughts. She smiled encouragingly, “But I shall try and return as soon as I can, child.”

“Please do.” Hamfast said with a pout. She patted his head once more, her fingers through his curls, and turned around to leave. The little hobbit waved to her back and she only knew this as Bifur and Bofur both raised their hands to wave back. Gandalf lead them away and Bo stayed behind for the longest moment she could.

Her blood chilled at the thought of never coming home.

 0o0

“You’ve ridden a pony, lass?” Gloin’s tone was surprised, but Bo couldn’t blame him. When her size was considered, and the fact that most of the hobbits in the Shire avoided ridden transport, it was clear why he asked. Bo had tossed her pack onto the backside of Myrtle; the mare threw her head back and snorted as she waited.

“Yes.” Bo grunted softly and hooked her foot into the stirrup. A large hand came into her vision over her saddle and she glanced up. Dwalin’s stern face stared back at her and his fingers curled slightly, his brow ticked. She grinned and took his hand and with one fluid pull, he had her over and up onto the saddle. “Though, the last time I was on a pony, my legs felt younger.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, mistress, but how old _are_ you?” Bofur inquired politely as he pulled up beside her with his own pony. Bo rolled her shoulders and shifted on the saddle; Myrtle snorted gratefully and picked up the pace along with the others.

“Fifty.” She replied with a grin tossed over her shoulder at Bofur. “Why?” Bo nearly tumbled off Myrtle’s backside in mirth as no fewer than six heads turned to her in shock. She bit the inside of her cheek and held her tongue for she knew full well what was about to come.

“You’re – then you’re not more than a child!” Called Fíli, alarmed by the information.

Kíli nodded his head, his expression stern. “Why would Gandalf not tell us this?”

“Perhaps it was due to the fact that _hobbits_ come of age at three and thirty years, young lords!” Gandalf cried from the front of their progression. Bo snickered into her palm as Fíli shot an angry look at Gandalf’s back, but said nothing on his intrusion. Bo bowed her head lightly to them.

“He is right. I came into my adulthood at the age of thirty-three years. Now fifty, I am considered middle-aged for a hobbit.” Bo explained patiently and she greatly enjoyed the wide-eyed expressions she received.

“Middle-aged!” Cried Fíli, seemingly offended.

“You hardly look as old as us! We believed you to be around our years.” Kíli interjected sourly, his shoulders stiff from the blow of knowledge. Her head tilted to the left, her scar scrunched on the side of her face with her curiosity.

“How old are _you_ , then?” Bo countered with a point of her chin. Kíli and Fíli shared a look and not for the first time, Bo watched as a conversation passed between them. It was noiseless, save for the occasional whisper that wasn’t even a word that passed their lips, and a blink of their eyes. _Brothers, definitely._ Bo smiled at the sight.

“I’m two and eighty.” Fíli answered first, his eyes dragged away from his brother’s face.

Kíli sighed. “And I am the youngest of the Company at seven and seventy.”

Bo blinked.

“They’re the _children_ of this group. We almost denied their request to come along with us.” Balin came up from behind Bo and passed them, his commentary brief and succinct, if not teasing. She watched as he and his pony trotted on, moving to the front of the line. Bo snorted softly and chuckled and her gaze returned to the brothers.

“So that leaves the matter, by age you are my seniors,” Bo smirked. “But by maturity, you’re just as bad as Hamfast.”

“We beg your pardon!”

 0o0

The Company was soon out of the twisting and turning dirt paths of Hobbiton and into the main road not long into the morning. Bo pulled up her hood and tucked her braid into it. Her cloak was light, a muddy brown with a green hood. It shadowed her forehead nicely and unless someone actively leaned over to peer under it, her face was hidden. Her blade was secured against Mytle’s side, close to be at hand for Bo, and glinted under her bedroll.

“Here, lass.” Bofur broke into the silence, coming along beside her. “Tell us a story. How did you come by that sword?”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bo smiled at him with her head raised enough to allow him a glimpse of her face. “It was my mother’s. It is an elvish blade from Rivendell, one of which was gifted to her by a troupe of passing elves who traded the blade for some of her pottery. Odd as it sounds.”

The dwarves seemed to reel back from her and her pony at the discovery of the blade’s origins. She raised a brow and looked about her, but only Gandalf was ready with an explanation. “The dwarves and elves have a long standing history of… _discontent,_ with each other, my dear.”

“Discontent, he says.” Dwalin muttered from in front, beside Thorin. “Well deserved avoidance, says I.”

“Whhhy…” Bo dragged out, a little wary of voicing her question. “Is that? What happened?” This was where the dwarves apparently drew their line, as no one answered her, not even the wizard. She sighed and shrugged a lone shoulder. _In due time, I suppose. We are strangers to each other._

“And you know how to wield it, yes?” Bofur continued on, his cheerfulness sincere, but a clear avoidance to the subject at hand.

“Yes, with mild accuracy.” Bo admitted softly. “I have an instinct for it that isn’t common in hobbits. Our sight is good, and we’re better suited as archers, if the need presents itself. Though,” she hesitated and tugged at the edge of her hood, “… I was never formally trained.”

“And yet you were given a blade?” Nori said skeptically from the back of the line.

Bo straightened her back as a flare of pain laced her muscles, forcing them to constrict. She knew there was no wound, but she felt it. Some never healed, no matter the amount of hands who tried. She kept her gaze forward, but did not answer. _Necessity does not understand patience. Sometimes skill must be learned at a time when there is no time to spare._ But she would not say those words; she would not display her wound for all to see.

_In due time, I suppose._

“Mistress?” Bofur inquired gently.

“It’s a long story.” Bo finally answered. “A handful of years back… goodness, I think I was about twenty or twenty-one years old… and the Shire suffered a harsh winter.” The heels of her hands rested on the horn of her saddle and her gaze strayed to her right. Fili and Kili had come up along beside her, their faces stern. There was a mild chatter at the front of the line, Balin and Thorin held a soft conversation with each other.

“In later years, we called it the Fell Winter of 2911. So bad was the cold that the river that defended us from the woods had frozen over.” She shifted in her saddle and Myrtle nickered with annoyance. “My family and I had been traveling home, from Buckland… but in order to do so, one must cross the Brandywine River.” Bo nervously reached up and scratched at her scar along the left side of her face. Bofur’s eyes traveled to it and a frown was shared between him and the princes, unnoticed by the hobbit.

“We were nearly to one of the bridge crossings, when there was a warning call from the dark forest.” Bo turned to Bofur and his gaze snapped to her face and he nodded for her to continue. “My mother recognized it as a horn that belonged to a patrolman, Rangers who cared for our borders and kept us safe.” Bo’s blue gaze drifted away and her words sounded faded to her ears.

 0o0

_“Mother!” Bo cried from the other side of the bridge, her parents still on the other side of the Brandywine. Bungo grabbed his wife’s hand and dragged her over the bridge and soon snagged Bo’s shoulder and shoved both women in front, their traveling bags at their feet._

_“Run! Don’t dally! There is evil coming, run, I say!” Bungo commanded with a forceful tone. Bo shuddered in fear, having never heard her father’s voice go higher than a polite cough. Belladonna growled low in her throat, torn between her thoughts. She took Bo’s hand, grabbed their bags, and they bolted down the path._

_“Where are we going? We cannot leave father!” Bo cried and glanced back through her curls, but the figure of her father was gone._

_“Your father is going back to warn the others, they will be better prepared for what comes!” Belladonna shushed her and continued to pull her down the path. They ran and both were panting and sweating by the time they arrived near an inn miles before Hobbiton proper. Belladonna burst in, the doorknob slipped from her hand due to its height and both women tumbled into the warmth of the inn._

_“Here now!” The innkeeper called. “There’s no cause to barge into –”_

_“There is no time!” Belladonna snapped at the innkeeper. Bo gasped in surprise, for it was rare that her mother lost her patience to have no time for manners. Belladonna stepped up to the counter where the innkeeper loomed over to peer at her. “There is a horn calling in the distance, the Brandywine is frozen, you must be prepared.”_

_“Oh, aye, I heard it, lass.” The innkeeper said kindly. “Half my clients rose and left as if a fire was set upon them at the sound of the call. We’ll be safe now that they are out, duty calling.”_

_“You cannot trust that will be enough. There have been shadows in the forest, surely you’ve heard.” Belladonna argued, but the innkeeper waved his hand at her with a murmur of placating words. Belladonna rose to her full height and turned toward the door, her shoulders squared._

_“Mother?” Bo called with her hands tight around their traveling bag. Belladonna stopped and glanced at the door with a hard gaze. She softened and her shoulders slumped before she turned back to Bo. She stepped to her daughter and placed her hands upon Bo’s shoulders._

_“We’ll be safe here.” Belladonna said gently, but Bo could see her mother did not believe her words. “Come.” Belladonna did her best to smile and cast the weak turn of her lips to the innkeeper and asked for a room. Not one to turn away a patron, the innkeeper soon found them a room sized for a hobbit._

_Bo could see the stiff movements of her mother’s body in the shadows of their lit candles. Nervously, her mother would glance out through the windows and search, her eyes flickered one way and then another before pausing out into the darkness of the road. They moved the beds together and as Bo began to dress for bed, her mother stopped her._

_“Don’t,” Belladonna warned. “We do not know how this night will go… best to keep your clothes on and…”_

_“Mother, you’re frightening me.” Bo whispered. “Surely the Rangers are more than capable of stopping whatever it is that you believe may come down from the forest.”_

_“Child.” Belladonna’s voice cracked with her heavy tone. “You… My darling, you do not know what lies beyond those borders. Hobbiton is safe, for we are hidden well behind many layers of roads and hills, but this place…”_

_A chill went up Bo’s spine as her mother’s hands gripped her shoulders tighter._

_“There is always a chance something may slip through. No net is perfect.” Belladonna moved to their traveling bag and shuffled aside their clothing and trinkets. From within the depths of the bag, Belladonna removed a sheath and held it out to Bo, who shook her head vehemently in silent protest._

_“Take it,” Belladonna’s hands shook as she held it out._

_“I shan’t,” Bo whispered, her hands came up to her face and she felt her vision blur with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to use one! I’ll stab myself before hurting anything else!”_

_“You must take it!” Belladonna stood and pressed the sheath and sword into Bo’s shaking hands. “I will not always be around to protect you, and if we are separated…”_

_“Don’t say that!”_

_“Shh,” Belladonna reached up and held her daughter’s face gently. Her fingers curled into Bo’s hair and tugged at a slender strand. “Should it happen… swing, and swing hard, daughter.”_

 0o0

A heavy hand came down onto her shoulder and Bo choked on a strangled gasp, her hand down on the hilt of her blade, but a foot stepped on her fingers to stop her from drawing the weapon. Bo blinked, her gaze colored with a cloud that disappeared as rapidly as she could blink. She turned, her hood coming away from her head and she followed the arm to find Gandalf at the end of it.

“Breath, my girl.” Gandalf commanded warmly. Almost immediately, Bo inhaled and her lungs burned from the sensation. _Was I holding my breath? For how long?_ She shuddered and her head whipped around to found Bofur’s foot moving away from her fingers on the hilt of her sword. Her limbs were shards of ice and she could hear her joints crack under her skin from the stiffness.

“Easy lass, I meant no harm.” The dwarf answered softly upon meeting her gaze. “Just cannot have you take a swing at our wizard, can we.”

“I… I would never,” Bo said meekly, her voice rough. She turned to Gandalf and bowed her head. “I’m – I would _never_ …”

“I know, child.” Gandalf smiled and reached over to adjust her hood behind her head. “Come; let us talk of happier times.” With a small shift of his staff along his side, Gandalf dove into a story of a time when his fire-crackers had set fire to not one, but _ten_ chicken huts, much to the dismay of the farmers he had been visiting.

Bo reached over and tugged her cloak tighter against her shoulders and closed her eyes against the flickering stares of the Company around her.

_In due time._

* * *


	7. To Share One's Memories

**Chapter 7**

**To Share One's Memories**

* * *

It took them nearly the whole day to leave the borders of the Shire. It was almost comical to Bo, who answered Ori, Fili, and Kili’s inquiry from time to time of ‘are we out yet?’ She had taken the time to explain the boundaries of the land, how far the Shire actually stretched (and not just Hobbiton), as well as Tuckborough and Buckland. Fili had approached the subject with a critical eye, whereas his younger brother was merely content to question her on the issues that surrounded the Shire.

“It’s not a very well-defended area, that’s all I mean.” Kili reiterated as he threw his bedroll down across the floor. He kicked his bag next to the head of his roll and turned to Bo with a hand below his hip. The rest of the camp had spread out and surrounded their fire with Bombur happily cooking away.

“It really wasn’t chosen for its defense, Master Kili.” Bo replied with her own bedroll already set as she sat upon it. “When we came down from the mountains centuries ago, theoretical history speculates that we chose that land for its fertile soil.” Bifur trudged past her, his arms jerkily jabbing at his side as he went. Bo watched him with a bemused look, but turned at the sound of Ori’s voice.

“From what mountains?” Ori asked with his journal open in his lap. Dori had already taken to his bedroll, his hands full with a cloth and string. _Is he sewing?_ Bo wondered at the sight.

“We traveled west from the Misty Mountains, or so the Rangers have told me.” Bo replied with her attention back to the youngest Ri brother. She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s said that we traveled down to escape the dangers of Mirkwood and avoid the Easterlings.”

“And you trust the word of these Rangers?” Fili asked, his brow furrowed. “What’s to say they’re not lying?”

“How would I know? I’m only fifty. Rangers, or some of them, are well past a hundred or so.” Bo smiled gently at the young prince. “In any case, history is written by the victors and all stories turned to legends eventually.”

“Horse dung,” Oin interrupted with a heavy cough. “A well-kept history survives even the test of time. Dwarrow history is like the strength of a mountain, everlasting.” Gloin and Balin nodded their heads in agreement, though a few of the others around the camp were silent as they dug into their meal. Bo held up a hand, releasing the argument.

Bofur stepped by her bedroll and held out a bowl for her. She accepted with a smile and nod, but placed the bowl in her lap, momentarily forgotten. Bofur sat next to her, while the three youngest were to her left. Behind her sat Dwalin and not far off to his left was Thorin, hidden away in the growing shadows of the trees.

“I find it strange,” Bofur said after a moment, “that so little is known about Hobbits, and yet you seem to have so much to tell.”

“There isn’t much, really.” Bo answered with a spoon lax in her left hand. She frowned and switched to her right, mindful of her fingers. Bofur’s gaze flickered to her hand, but he said nothing. From the corner of her eye, she could see Ori look to ask her, but a swift kick from Dwalin sent a rock into his back and caused him to clamp his mouth shut.

_Thank you._

“When you think about it…” Bo continued on as if she had missed the exchange. “We’re simple folk. Good food, a good home… there isn’t much more that we need. Unfortunately, I do believe that my kin have grown overly soft.”

“What, do you mean around the middle?” Nori teased from the other side of the campfire. Bofur took a flick of his spoon and sent a rock sailing into the grinning thief’s face, but as he dodged the project tile, Dori clapped a hand along the back of his head. Gloin and Bombur laughed at the sight of a fussing Nori desperately trying to keep his braids in place.

Bo chuckled. “That, as well. But no, what I mean… you’ve seen us. It’s rare for a hobbit to have anything more dangerous than sheers or a pitch folk. The very idea that I have a sword in my possession is cause for gossip.”

“Better to be able to defend yourself than to be left wishing you could.” Dwalin grumbled from behind her. Bo raised a finger and nodded in agreement, silent as she was with a spoonful of stew in her mouth. “It’s almost unnerving to walk through your village, mistress, and not even see an armed patrol, merely a gentle-folk with a jug of ale and a lantern.”

“Ah, that.” Bo nearly spat up her stew with her snickers. “Yes, well, we have no need for it. As I mentioned, the Rangers have kept us safe for centuries. For so long, in fact, that most of the hobbits even forget that they are there.”

“Begging your pardon, mistress,” Fili entered sternly, “but that’s quite rude to forget one’s gratefulness at being defended, and with no cause for repayment or tribute.”

“I didn’t say we were the brightest bunch, now did I.” Bo snorted softly. “But the Rangers ask for nothing, nor do they come into our lands unless it is under great need.”

“I did see a few odd looks from the Men when we stopped at the inn on the way.” Bombur burped and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Bo winced at the sight, but snickered when Bifur tapped Bombur’s cheek harshly with an edge of a cloth square.

“I would not be surprised. They hardly see hobbits beyond Bree. We don’t travel far.” Bo finished her soup and then stood to walk toward the edge of the camp, her voice carried over the gentle breeze. “We’re farmers, not traders. I have seen a few dwarves, Men, and Elves come through to trade with the people of the Blue Mountains, but aside from that.” Bo shrugged as she cleaned out her bowl with a small cup of water from the nearby bucket.

“And you, mistress?” Bofur asked gently. “You mentioned that you had left the Shire a few times before?” Bo could hear it in his tone of voice, his uncertainty at whether such a question was safe to ask. She returned to her bedroll after leaving her clean bowl with Bombur and gave Bofur a smile.

“I have, after that winter, I… became restless, you could say.” Bo answered softly once her legs were folded neatly to one side. “Fighting isn’t in a hobbit’s nature, but my mother said that there was a bit more Took in me than most, much to my father’s worry.”

“Battle blood,” Dwalin growled from behind. “Some of the dwarflings get it when they have their practice for battle. A restlessness that makes them fierce.” He shifted and Bo could feel her muscles spark with movement for just a moment, the nervousness of having someone at her back with axes overcoming her sense to stay still. Again, she caught a small glimpse of Bofur as his eyes flickered to her, watching and waiting for her movements.

“I do not doubt that is the case with dwarves… or,” She turned to Dwalin, her scar scrunched along her face, “What was it that you called a collection of dwarves? Dwarrows?” Dwalin nodded to her silently, his face seemingly forever stern and stone carved.

“Aye, lass.” Balin said as he came alongside his brother to rest upon his bedroll. “It’s the appropriate word to use for us. The other folk don’t know it, or chose to ignore it.”

“I understand,” Bo replied, “Must be like when the Big Folk call us Halfings…” She lulled her head from one side to another, her gaze to the fire and her voice gentle. “It’s not necessarily offensive, per say, but one hardly enjoys being referenced as half of something, for our worth or otherwise.”

“But I can see it,” Kili wondered lightly just beyond her left side. “Hobbits don’t fight, nor do they have anything to be considered a threat, why –” A swift elbow from Fili stopped his brother with a grunt. Kili gave Bo a wincing, apologetic look.

“It’s quite right, you know.” Bo amended as she stretched her back out along her bedroll. “We’re hardly a threat, I would venture even further to say we wouldn’t stand a chance against anyone in a true fight.” There was a heavy silence that blanketed the camp and after a while, Bifur made a great show of yanking his bedroll open and flopped against the ground, snoring loudly.

Bo chuckled, and the rest soon followed his lead.

0o0

The next morning Bo rose before the dawn peeked over the horizon. Bofur snored loudly beside her and the brothers just beyond him. Ori was to her left and was curled tightly into his knitted clothing and blanket. The sight made her smile and she sat up quietly. Dwalin grunted behind her and she stuttered in her movement. The dwarf was wide awake, it appeared, and fixed a glare at her before he continued with his whetstone along the edge of his axe.

Bo shuffled around the sleeping company and off the edge of the camp to stretch. Bifur sat against a tree and in his hands was a small piece of wood. The knife was in the other and he gently carved into the piece with steady hands. Bo finished her stretching and quietly padded over to him. She knelt and then folded her legs under her bottom, her hands resting in her lap.

Bifur murmured something in Khuzdul and shook the wooden piece at her, his eyes never leaving his knife or his hands.

Bo frowned, “For the last few days, I’ve noticed you only speak in your language… may I ask, have you always been that way?” His hands paused and he glanced up at her and not for the first time did Bo find herself at the end of a hard stare. She swallowed but held her hands firm against her fidget. The dwarf huffed and again, muttered something and his hand reached up and tapped the axe in his head.

“Your injury caused it?” She confirmed. At his nod, she continued, “Can you only communicate in… in your language?”Bifur stared at her and Bo realized how stupid her comment sounded. She shook her head and waved her hand with crooked fingers, “No, no. I’m sorry, I meant… can you only speak and _write_ , in Khuzdul? Or are you capable of writing in Westron?”

There was a pause and then Bifur was a flurry of limbs as he moved closer to her and cleared the ground before them. Bo rolled back on her legs and they flexed out beside her and Bifur hastily scribbled something into the dirt with his thick fingers. Bo held her braid away from her face and leaned over to view his mangled lettering.

“That’s strange, indeed.” She said and Bifur looked up at her, his brow up to his hairline in silent inquiry. Bo pursed her lips and flashed a look to him before pointing to his scribbled wording. “Half of it does appear to be in Westron, I know these letters… but it seems that you… you start to revert back to Khuzdul, or what I assume is your language, as I do not know these letters…” She wasn’t even sure they could be called letters, as they were more scratches than connected lettering.

Angrily, Bifur took his hands and motioned something, but only until the last of it did she realize he was trying to tell her something through the use of his hands. “Oh… oh! You, you can speak with your hands, like hand signals?” Bifur nodded and again his hands made the same gesture. Bo couldn’t recognize the signals and sighed sadly.

“What are you trying to tell me, precisely?” Bo said quietly. Bifur chortled brightly and pointed a finger to something behind her, over her shoulder. She turned and nearly jumped out of her skin to find a grinning Bofur behind her. A hand flew to her heart and she gasped which only caused her companions to snicker.

“Oh, hilarious.” Bo huffed, and then grinned at Bofur and Bifur, pleased at least to see the amusement. “Scare a poor lass right through her bones, you do.”

“No harm meant to ya, mistress.” Bofur answered and hunched down beside her. “But, to answer your question,” Bofur slowly and carefully repeated Bifur’s earlier gesture, and then tapped his chest with the end of his thumb. “Bifur was giving you my name. Or rather, telling ya I was behind you.”

“Oh,” Bo exhaled, surprised. “Oh, well, then I suppose it’s no one’s fault save my own for being so startled, is it?”

Bofur grinned. “Well, granted, you _didn’t_ know what he was trying to tell you, but I suppose you’ll get accustomed to our strange ways.” Bofur made to stand with a pat of his knee, but Bo reached out and placed her fingers just at the edge of his coat’s cuff. Almost instantly, the dwarf went still and Bo frowned at the sudden reaction, but placed it out of mind for the moment.

“Wait,” Bo said quietly. She turned her frown up to Bofur, and then glanced to Bifur for a brief second. “Isn’t it against your culture to teach an outsider these… hand signals?” Bofur shared a look with Bifur, but the older dwarf muttered something harshly and seemed to make a crude gesture with his hand. Bofur snickered and shrugged.

“True enough and we weren’t going to teach you any of it, which would be dangerous, indeed.” Bofur said softly, a sad smile on his face. Bifur stilled and became quieter, his attention back to the wooden piece that laid forgotten on the ground beside him. Bofur murmured something to him in Khuzdul and then patted his shoulder before moving back to the waking camp. Bo turned her blue gaze from Bofur’s retreating back to Bifur’s avoidant gaze.

 _Are you lonely?_ She wanted to ask, but she would not insult him so. Instead, she moved closer to him and with her legs once again folded under her, she leaned over to catch his gaze. He glanced at her from under his heavy brow and slowly, she signaled with her own hands. Bifur looked up at her, surprised, but she continued and spoke as she signed for him.

“The Rangers taught me, a common language, with their hands.” She said softly, each word given a shape with her hands and a pause so that he could follow, and perhaps even learn. “They used it, when speaking was, too dangerous.” Then, with her crooked fingers, she pressed the first three to her chest and then gently moved to touch them just at his beard, not quite to his chest.

“I would like to teach you,” She whispered for him. “So that we may speak, as friends?” Bifur stared, and stared for a long while, his dark eyes searched her face and she did her best to keep her smile upon her face despite the anxiety that grew within her throat. _Did I go too far? Perhaps this was too personal? Too close? I am still just an outsider._ She felt another come up behind her and her eyes flickered down to the boots, then back up to Bofur who returned. His face was somber, but he answered her.

“That would be mighty generous of you, mistress. He’ll accept.”

0o0

The rest of the camp arose with a call from Thorin. Some were already awake and packed (Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, and Thorin) while others had dozed for a bit and watched as the sun came up over the hills. Bo made her way through the camp and found Gandalf down by one side, smoking his pipe quietly.

“You seem to be making friends, my girl.” Gandalf said quietly with a small puff from his pipe. Bo shuffled up beside him and onto the rock he found as a perch. She remained quiet for a moment and adjusted her scarf around her neck. The trousers she wore were warm and plain, her coat tucked tightly around her.

“I would hardly call teaching one dwarf a new sign language as friendship, Gandalf.” Bo murmured through a yawn. “It was just… disheartening, to be within the same company, but never speak a word to each other.”

“You’ll find that some within this company will never say more than a handful of words to you in a day, Miss Baggins.” Gandalf replied with a raised brow. The camp was being dismantled behind them, bedrolls were packed away, bags tightened, the ponies saddled for the march ahead of them. Bo sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“True, but it doesn’t hurt to try. I just found it peculiar…”

“And what was that?” Gandalf asked when she did not continue. Bo held her hands out in front of her and with a rolling motion of leaves in a breeze, curled her fingers down into her palms until the crooked ones could not.

“He was making something, something small, with a wooden stub he had found.” Bo released her fingers and rubbed her palms together. “I thought at first it would be something like another pipe, or maybe a new weapon of some sort… but then he made,” and with a short flick of her hand and a gesture, she signed for Gandalf. The wizard puffed his pipe and smiled indulgently to her.

“It’s a toy,” Bo explained, “and at first I believed we had confused the signal, but he corrected me. A _toy_. What warrior makes toys, Gandalf?”

“They were much like you, Miss Baggins.” Gandalf answered with a small nod of his head. He pulled the pipe away from his mouth and coughed. “Some of them here were not battle-hardened, nor veterans of the blade. Many, like you, were forced into a situation that no skill other than that with a blade could save them.” At this, Bo glanced up and around at the company. They were all on their feet now, and the ponies nearly ready after a small, cold breakfast. A spear, axes, bow, swords, and knives were littered among the armored companions and Bo felt a shudder run through her body.

“Toymakers, bakers, miners, and jewelers; some were criminals, and others have found no place for themselves just yet.” Gandalf said. Her gaze flickered to Ori, the young dwarf with a talented hand for words and portraits, a skill of his she had only seen last night. She turned her gaze up to Gandalf and he gave her a gentle sigh. “But unlike you, my girl, they had no home to return to, no one to calm them during the terror, for their nightmare has never ended.”

“Oh, please don’t say that.” Bo whispered painfully. “I know of some dwarrows who have made a home for themselves in the Blue Mountains, surely they could have found peace there?”

“Peace?” Gandalf interjected with a sharp word. Bo hushed and turned her chin down, her gaze cast off into the grass. “Are they at peace? Are _you_ , my girl? If you know that which gives darkness to your terrors exists, would _you_ be at peace?”

“… perhaps that was a stupid thing to ask.”

“Perhaps it was.”

Bo slipped away from the quietly fuming wizard and found Myrtle. She raised her foot and just as the first time, a hand appeared over her saddle. She spared a look and found Dwalin along the other side of her pony, but without a word she took his hand and he pulled her up and over. She flashed him a grateful smile and he huffed before moving on to find his own mount. _So strange, that dwarf._ Bo shook her head and tugged on Myrtle’s reigns and the pony slipped into a trot along with the others.

Their traveling was at a steady pace, fast enough that the ponies huffed and steamed with heat and sweat by the end of the day. The land they had crossed through was one of vague familiarity to Bo, some of the hills and forest ones she had seen with the Rangers when they allowed her to travel out with them. Her head would turn one way and another as she tried to place where she was and how far from the Shire.

Soon, though, the hills were unfamiliar to her and the forests were darker. She relaxed away from Gandalf’s side and found her way to Bifur. Bofur came along beside her and not long after, they had a broken conversation going among the three of them. It was a slow process, but they managed their hellos and minor items like swords and tools. She even got a thank you from him, which warmed her inexplicably and brought a smile to her face.

Bo wasn’t sure whether the dwarves had forgotten she was among their troupe or if they had grown accustomed to her presence, but the silence that followed them their first few days of travel slowly began to disappear. She could always see Balin and Thorin at the front, their heads turned one way or another to speak in hushed tones. Behind them rode Gloin and Oin who spoke loudly and spared a few moments to break into laughter now and again. Fili and Kili, she noticed, would wander up and down the line. They would accompany Ori for some miles, then up to Thorin, before trailing down toward her with the others.

Gandalf remained at the head, and that was where Bo would keep him, his sour mood having no less of a hold on him as before. She felt guilty for it, and as she gazed at the dwarves around her, her guilt grew. It was wrong of her to think that they could settle in just any place and leave their past well enough alone. _If I cannot do it, I should not expect others to be more willing of the task._ She could hear her mother’s voice ring clear as day in her ears, _‘Do onto others as you wish to have done unto you, Bo Billa Baggins.’_ She smiled and shook her head.

“Something on your mind?” Bofur quietly interrupted with a smile on his face. For a moment, she was struck by his expression. Something along the lines of his face, the turn of his smile or the twinkle in his eyes caught her and she smiled wider.

“You’re a very peculiar dwarf, Master Bofur.” Bo suddenly answered. Bifur huffed and chortled deep in his throat and gestured wildly with his fingers. Bofur laughed and tipped his hat to her gently.

“I’ll take that as a compliment from you, mistress,” there was a wicked grin that painted his face now, “mostly considering that the wizard made mention you were no ordinary hobbit, yourself.”

“Right.” Bo laughed. “I could not even imagine what he may have told you about me.”

“Not much, to be honest.” Bofur frowned and shifted in his saddle. “When we first took on this quest, he said that the fourteenth member was to be a hobbit by the name of Bo Baggins. That, when the line was cross, we would find no truer form of courage than yours.”

Bo flushed from her face down to her chest and her mouth ducked into her heavy scarf. _Why in blazes would he say anything like that? They’ll expect to see something from me that I will not be able to give, that old wizened creature._ Still, she would not think ill of the wizard, despite his meddling. She sighed and adjusted the scarf against her neck.

“You do that a lot, I’ve noticed.” Bofur said quietly, and gestured to her scarf. “We, well, _I_ thought at first you were… hiding another scar.” He vaguely waved to his neck with a gloved hand and then hastily lowered it. Bo hesitated, but with a shake of her head, she lowered the scarf to reveal her pale neck. With a quick flash of her fingers, though, the skin was soon covered up.

“No scar. Just a nervous habit.”

“One of those memories, mistress?”

“One of those memories, Master Dwarf.”

Bofur nodded his head and left it at that. She swallowed and became painfully aware of the proximity of every dwarf to her. She closed her eyes and felt the scorch of fire behind her eyelids. She inhaled and held her breath as she rode along between Bifur and Bofur, and took a small notice to Bombur behind her. She exhaled and reached out to run her fingers through Myrtle’s mane.

“When I meant peculiar,” Bo started softly, catching Bofur’s attention and gaze once more, “I meant that you… seem far more accepting of an outsider than the others.” Her voice had been soft and carried gently through the space between them. Bofur’s face frowned again and Bo couldn’t help but think how awkward the expression appeared on his features. The other dwarves were made to frown and scowl, it seemed, Thorin most of all, but Bofur’s face held a light to it that she couldn’t spot in any of the others, even the brothers Fili and Kili.

“I suppose it goes something like this.” Bofur answered a few moments later, having collected his words. She jumped in her saddled, startled by his voice, but careful pat from Bifur kept her mind steady. “Sorry, mistress, but what I mean to explain is that… well, this here is my cousin, Bifur. Bombur back there is my brother, by blood. We’re not what you would call high class, aye?” Bo nodded with understanding and he continued. “So by that, our occupations were less… noble? Aie, no, that’s not what I want to say.”

“Less royal?” Bombur included from behind. Bofur shook his head and Bifur grumbled something with an angry shake of his head. He looked about ready to rock from his saddle and Bo feared for his stability upon his seat. Bofur laughed, “Aye! There you are, our work was menial, to say the least. We were toymakers, sans Bombur, who took after our mother.”

“I wouldn’t call toy making menial,” Bo said politely.

Bofur shrugged. “Past that point, we dealt much more frequently with those who weren’t strictly our kind. Dori there, with his brother Ori, well – they aren’t necessarily high class either, but they’re a bit higher than us by way of status.”

“How so?” Bo frowned as her gaze shifted to the Ri brothers in front of her. Dori rode with Ori at his right side and Bo could barely hear the quiet words that were exchanged. Nori rode behind them, silent and mildly still upon his saddle, his fingers occasionally tying and untying the ropes among his bags.

“They’re weavers, knitters, what have you.” Bofur explained quietly with a hand to his hat. “Dori is a deceptive dwarf, and not by willing choice. By his hands, fine fabrics turn into fashion, and he’s been known to mend a tunic or two that seemed hopeless. Don’t let all that fool you, though,” Bofur warned with a snap of his gaze to her. “He’s the strongest of us all, can lift a boulder the size of you clear over his head, he can.”

“Really?” Bo exclaimed, wide eyed. Her surprise was heard clear up the line and a few of the dwarves turned to look at her. She flushed brightly once more and ducked again into her scarf with a mean grumble to herself. Bifur could only laugh at her and smack his leg in amusement. Bo glared at him over the tuffs of her scarf and with one hand, angrily gestured to him. Bifur blinked, having seen the gesture before and howled with laughter.

“Oy, what did you say?” Bofur asked, surprised by his cousin sudden cheer. Bo grumbled and Bofur leaned in as close as the ponies would allow. “What was that?”

Bo grumbled louder, just enough for him to hear.

“You said what?! _Hahaha!_ ”

0o0

_“No!” A clash of steel and the vibration echoed through her slender limbs. She cried in pain and fear, her heart hammered in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to breathe. She panicked and stepped back, but the shadow followed her and another swing came down on her. She screamed as the blow jolted the sword from her hands._

_“Please! Please, no!” She cried desperately, her hands now scrambled on the muddy ground. Was it raining? When did it start raining? A crash of thunder clapped over her head and she pulled her hands up to her ears out of shock. There was a howl and she looked up, only to see the blade she lost come down along the left side of her face –_

Bo awoke with a lightning strike flashing through her muscles. She clamped her teeth shut and swallowed the scream. Her limbs burned as she tensed to keep from shooting up from her bedroll in a panic. Another swallow and she exhaled. She closed her eyes and counted to ten and willed the tears to stay away. She thought she heard the faint echoes of screaming in distance, _but no, that’s nonsense. Why would there be…?_ She sat up and shuddered from the chill. Not far off from her and under the ledge of the cliff were Fili and Kili, the fire between them. The rest of the camp spread around her and she sighed, relieved.

She stood and shook the spark of nervousness from her bones. Her scarf came around her neck, tough and warm, and she shuffled her way over toward the ponies. There, Myrtle raised her head and nickered happily at seeing her rider. Bo smiled and reached out, petting the velvet nose that was pushed toward her. “Hello, darling. Good night so far, hmm?” Myrtle pushed into her hand again and whined. The pony moved back to her little patch of grass on the cliff.  Bo felt her bones jump unexpectedly as a scream drifted from away.

Bo reached for her hip and cursed when she remembered her sword was tucked away under her bedroll. She quickly shifted over the rock with her bare feet and made it to her bed in time to hear another scream float along. Her eyes turned up and locked with the royal brothers. She swallowed and held herself still against the shake that threatened to take her. “… those are not human.”

“Orcs.” Kili replied. “Night raids, most like. Hunt after dark, when all are asleep.”

“I know,” Bo whispered. The faint smile that ghosted across Kili’s face faded and he shared a heavy look with his brother. Fili shifted in his place and cleared his throat. Bo shook her head and flipped away the edge of her bedroll to pull out her sheathed sword and held it to her side.

“They won’t come here, mistress.” Kili told her softly. “They hunt mostly in the lowlands, and besides, what’s a few orcs in the middle of the night for a band of dwarves?”

“You think a night raid by orcs is a good form of sport?” Thorin’s low thunder ripped through the quiet of the camp. Bo gripped her sword tighter and gave Thorin a severe glare tossed over her shoulder as he walked past. He paused and glanced at her sword, but for the slightest of seconds his face furrowed and he inclined his head to her before moving on toward the edge to overlook the valley beneath them.

“We weren’t trying to scare her…” Kili winced and gave Bo an apologetic glance. She pursed her lips to a thin, white line on her face and glanced away into the sky. A sharp snort came from Thorin and he glared at his nephews.

“Of course you weren’t, but you did. You treat this quest as if it were a game and not a life-ending quest with the respect it deserves. You act like children, with no knowledge of the world.” Even Bo winced at the harsh words that the young princes were whipped with, but couldn’t find her voice to defend them. The brothers’ gaze fell to their boots and their words slipped into silence. Satisfied that he had controlled them, Thorin growled in his throat and turned away from the camp once more.

Bo’s gaze flickered over her shoulder to the chastised princes. She turned and shakily sat on her bedroll and placed her sword down beside her with a soft chime. Her crooked fingers lingered over the sheath before she tucked them away in the folds of her coat pockets. Balin came up silently from beside the princes, “Don’t let his mood get to you, laddie. Thorin has a stronger reason than most to hate the existence of orcs.”

“No one needs a reason more than that they exist to hate orcs.” Bo grumbled as she drew her legs up and pressed her face into her knees and glared out over the edge of the camp. Balin paused and then sighed softly and shook his head while he returned his gaze to the princes. Softly, the boys shifted to bring their attention to Balin.

“Back when the Lonely Mountain was taken, our King Thror tried to reclaim Moria.” Balin explained and leaned against the jutting rock that hung over the young princes. “But orcs had claimed the mountain pass and realm, first. We were shoved into battle for days, until the foulest of their kind came forth.” A stillness had ghosted over the camp and Bo now turned with a frown, glancing at Balin. The older dwarf nodded his head gently and scuffed a boot along the rock.

“His name was Azog, The Defiler. He took to battle with a bloodlust unknown to us. Before long, he had managed to take a hold of our king… and beheaded him.” A dark glare came across Balin’s face and Bo swallowed with a hand to her neck. The camp around her stirred and stood to move closer to Balin. “Then, he scratched his own name into King Thror’s head, and tossed both head and body out through the gates of Moria, lost in the fray of battle.” Bo gasped softly at the image and shook her head, ducking back once more into the bends of her knees.

“Thrain, Thorin’s father, went mad – stricken by grief or rage, and was lost. We could not find him, even after the battle.” Balin sighed sadly and pushed away from the rock, his fists clenched tightly against his sides. “But there, in the madness, I spotted him. A young prince who stared down the wild orc, Azog.” Bo’s eyes flickered up over her knees to Thorin’s back and she could see that his spine straightened, his attention focused on the story as well. Now well aware that he had become a focus, he turned hard and still, like the stone he once lived within, but did not turn around.

“He stood defiant against the enemy, and wielding nothing more than a broken branch, he fought back. He struck hard and took an arm,” Balin shook his fist for emphasis, but his gaze was glued to Thorin’s back. Bo’s followed the line of his boots, the sharp edges of his sword and the fur that lined his shoulders. _An unstoppable force is not to be trifled with,_ she could hear her mother say, _and best to hope you’re on their side._ Ori stepped beside her and moved forward closer to Thorin. The rest of the camp had stirred and surrounded their exiled-king.

“Heh,” Balin chuckled softly. “The enemy learned that day that the line of Durin would not so easily be killed. We rallied behind Thorin and drove our foes back into the darkness of Moria, shutting the gates behind them.” A deep sadness echoed through Balin’s voice and Bo turned away from Thorin to see a flicker of pain flash over the older dwarf’s face. He crossed gazes with Bo and held her attention for a moment before he looked away, his brow furrowed. “But… our dead were beyond count and grief soon overcame us. We lost that day… but found a new hope.”

There was a silence and Bo shifted uneasily. “Balin… what happened to Azog?”

“That monster died to his wound long ago.” Thorin growled, startling Bo. She turned a sharp gaze to him, but his attention was to the ground where his boots stomped, and he moved angrily through the camp to his sleeping spot. Dwalin followed him easily and the camp settled awkwardly back into bed. Bo hesitated and turned to Gandalf. The wizard blew out from his pipe and sighed heavily. A cold pit set in the darkness of her stomach and she slipped into her bedroll, the fire doing nothing to ease the chill that worked into her soul.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that with every update, these chapters come out longer and longer. I hope that’s a good thing. A bit more of the story, a bit more bonding between Bo and a few of the dwarves, and hopefully a story that isn’t just a copy-paste.
> 
> Please leave any comments or reviews, they’re always encouraging!


	8. Test Your Metal

**Chapter 8**

**Test Your Metal**

* * *

  

There was a covering of light dew that settled over the company and Bo awoke to a shiver that came up from her bare feet and through her legs. She sat up and blinked away the sleep and crust from her eyes. With a shake, her braid whipped behind her and dripped with a bit of the moisture. Bo shook out her blanket before she stood and carefully did the same to her bedroll before rolling it up and tucking it away on her pack. Her sword was strapped to her hip and her clothes straightened out. The rest of the company was still asleep and the sun just barely started over the edge of the sky.

“It is still early, my dear.” Gandalf coughed from his place just beyond the camp. Bo pouted slightly to see him still as he had been before she went to sleep, smoking his pipe and upright in his seat.

“Do you just not sleep, is that it?” Bo whispered to him as she moved her gear closer to the ponies. Myrtle brightened and her ears flickered toward them, but once she noticed Bo didn’t come closer, she snuffed angrily and lowered her head.

“A wizard does as he pleases, Miss Baggins.” He answered her with amusement and another puff of his pipe. Bo inclined her head to him and moved back to the camp. She sat by the dim coals of the forgotten fire and stroked it with a stick near her. The coals hissed from the moisture in the air and she gently tossed on a few more sticks to help it grow. The small pile shifted and Bombur stirred awake on the other side.

“Morning…” The large dwarf grunted sleepily. He rolled and heaved himself up onto his feet. Bo grinned at the sight, surprised by his steadiness. She watched silently as Bombur walked around the camp to collect food and his cooking pot. Bo continued to stoke the fire to life as he did so and she nearly tumbled over in mirth as Bombur kicked his brother over to get his spoon. Bofur threw his hat at Bombur as his brother walked away.

Bofur rolled over in his bedroll and tried to reach his hat with the tips of his toes and Bo snickered harder as he failed twice. He grinned at her and finally sat up to reach for his hat and pull it towards him. The rest of the camp arose slowly to the smell of Bombur’s cooking and packed away their things. Bombur handed Bo a bowl of warm porridge and she held onto it tightly to fight against the cold of the morning.

Gloin and Oin settled by the fire and grumbled into their bowls. Dori placed a bowl into a yawning Ori’s hands, Nori disappeared off to the ponies and the princes sat on either side of Balin with empty bowls, waiting for their shares. Bo shook her head and smiled into her spoon, _such an odd little group. Royals, high class, tinkers, toy makers… For once, I am not the sole outcast._ Bifur promptly took his breakfast and landed beside her with a grumble of something in Khuzdul and she almost dropped her bowl.

“Well, good morning to you, too.” Bo said with a giggle. She brought her hand up and gestured, mouthing the word ‘ _hello’_ and then ‘ _good morning’_ for him. Bifur repeated the gesture for her, and then again when Bofur sat on her other side.

“Starting early, are we?” Bofur asked with a slurp around his bowl. Bo raised an eyebrow as a small dribble of porridge caught his beard. He wiped it away and burped. She chuckled and shook her head at the sight and tipped her bowl to her mouth, mimicking him.

“There you go!” Bofur cheered with a happy thump to her back. She coughed and pulled the bowl away from her face before she spilled all of it. “Oh, pardon me, mistress, didn’ mean to make it harder on you!”

“Just don’t kill me before it is useful, Master Bofur.” Bo replied with a laugh and cleaned her chin with the edge of a square piece of cloth, one that Bifur had ripped off for her from… somewhere. She didn’t ask, and was glad not to understand his explanation. She cleaned her face and continued on with her breakfast, giggling gently when Bifur had Bombur pour a bit more porridge into her bowl when Balin looked away.

The camp was cleared and the fire snuffed out. The ponies were laden with traveling bags and saddles. Bo sighed, _another long day of traveling, is it? And the weather hasn’t cleared one bit._ The clouds overhead were heavy and dark, a rain threatened to spill from above, and she hoped they would find another camp before it suddenly poured out on them. The trees and mosses were damp from dew and Bo found an uncomfortable mugginess in between her fingers and toes as she walked, her braided hair plastered against her face. At least her coat was somewhat dry, and the leather armor she bore was comfortable yet still.

She pulled her tough scarf firmly around her neck and moved toward Myrtle. Bo tossed up her pack and secured it to her pony. As she turned to pull herself up into her saddle, she gasped in surprise and took a hasty step back to find Nori beside her. She clutched at her scarf, “Gracious,” she hiccupped, “Master Nori, you have a talent for that, you do.”

Nori gave her a wide grin. “Sorry, mum. I was asked to see to you, and make sure you could get into your saddle.”

“Get into my…” Bo murmured disbelievingly. She flashed a look over her shoulder to search for Dwalin and she found him further off toward the front of the line, Balin by one side, and Thorin facing him. The conversation was quiet, with their heads low, and Bo glared for a moment before coming back to Nori.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Bo rolled her eyes and patted Nori’s offered hand away. “Thank you, Master Dwarf, but I believe I am still fully capable of helping myself.” Nori paused and a frown of hesitation pulled at his face, but he shrugged and moved on to his own mount. Bo gripped the reins of her pony and the horn of her saddle to heave herself over with a good tug. Her larger feet caught on the stirrup and she nearly slipped right out (as Hobbits had grips made especially for their large feet, the dwarves couldn’t have known).

“Alright there, lass?” Oin asked gruffly from beside her. Bo nodded breathlessly and flashed him a smile. The medic huffed and shook his head, but he reached over and held Myrtle’s head still by taking the halter in his large grip. Once upright in the saddle, Bo tightened her grip on the reins and patted Myrtle’s neck.

“One day, maybe.” Bo said to herself, laughing. “I’ll get used to this again.”

“Again?” Gloin came up beside his brother. “Aye, you mentioned you’ve ridden before. Not sure why or how, there weren’t many ponies or horses in the Shire by what I saw.” Bo gently kicked Myrtle into a trot and she followed behind the other ponies as the line progressed down the path. Thorin was at the head, his nephews beside him, and Balin followed them with Dwalin’s company. Dori, Nori, and Ori were closest to her by riding in front of her.

Nori cast her a glance, as did Ori, who’s curiosity was clear. Dori, she noticed, made a valiant effort to appear disinterested in her history. She rode between Oin and Gloin, their hard stares identical and Bo wondered what they searched for so intently within her face. Bombur brought up the rear with Bifur and Bofur alongside his mount.

“Hobbits don’t usually keep ponies for riding.” Bo explained thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, before I was twenty, the only pony I saw belonged to the Maggots, and that was their cart-pulling mare. Sweet thing, but she hated cats.” She smiled at the memory and brought her distant gaze to Gloin’s bushy face. She marveled at the length of his beard and the trinkets there in, and continued on distractedly, “I hadn’t learned to ride a pony until I was twenty-one, when we had to hurry back to Hobbiton.”

“What attacked you?” Gloin said bluntly. “You’ve made mention of it once or twice, but you always go cold if you delve into your memories for it. Fear, child?” Bo blanched at his stark words and shot the dwarf with a wide-eyed expression, her lips tightly pressed together to the point that the normally lush red was painted white. Gloin showed no care that he could have offended her and so Bo trudged on, regardless.

She squared her shoulders and looked ahead. “Goblins.” Now even all three of the Ri brothers in front of her turned to look at her at the word. She raised an eyebrow at them and remained silent. Gloin murmured something darkly about the skin-rotted blighters, or something along those lines, and bowed his head to Bo.

“Is that where you acquired that scar?” He asked with his words sharp.

“Yes.” Bo replied tightly, her small hands gripped the reins, but her crooked fingers struggled to close as tightly as the others. Gloin’s gaze flickered down to her lap where she kept her hands and the look did not pass unnoticed by her.

“Your fingers,” he asked, but Bo noted a touch of softness to his tone; “was that due to wielding a weapon you were unfamiliar with?” She hesitated when she glanced at him and wondered where his questions were trying to lead her. Bo felt her mouth work for a bit, but she finally nodded.

“Yes,” came her soft answer. “I dropped my sword because I was hit with a whip’s end. My fingers…” She looked down to her hand and brought her palm around so it faced the sky. Her fingers twitched, but her pinky and ring finger would do little in the way of movement. “They cracked, and I tried to hold my blade, but my grip was weakened, and made the breaks worse.”

“Poor healing.” Oin observed. “How long was it before you had your hand wrapped, lass?”

Bo looked at her hand. “One, maybe two days? I don’t remember… I had fallen asleep, but I do not recall for how long.” She sighed. Ever since the break in her fingers, things had proven a unique challenge. A few things like holding her cups or writing with her quills, reading her books, even cooking and cleaning were frustrating at the best of times.

“You have an instinct for the blade, but no training.” Gloin said thoughtfully. He sighed with a rough exhale and shook his head. “And then with half a broken hand? Well, no other case for it, we shall have to train you.”

“Train me?” Bo hiccupped. “I – well, I would be thankful for it, but it isn’t necessary.”

“On the contrary,” Oin interjected. “It is absolutely necessary, if you are to be a part of this Company, the skills you have, or the _lack_ of them, may be a deciding factor in the end.” Bo stayed silent at his words and nodded her head. The rest of the day had passed on in relative silence. Not due in any part to her, as the Company was more than capable of passing the time sharing jokes or singing to their heart’s content. Bifur, on the other hand, was glued to her side and eagerly devoured whatever new signs she could give him.

They could now have broken (painfully broken) conversations. His movements were quick and sometimes unintelligible, but with Bofur’s help, she was able to converse with him on some level. At times, though, the conversation would go sour and Bofur would find himself in a fit of laughter as Bifur and Bo traded insults with their hand gestures. They only stopped when Balin cleared his throat and Bo was reminded with a sharp look from the older dwarf of where she stood.

Then the rain came, with sunlight still shining through. No crack of thunder, no lightning, nothing to give warning to the sudden dump from above. The ponies trudged on, uncaring of the water that covered them or the puddles at their hooves. The dwarves, though, were miserable. Bo chuckled into her scarf and brushed her curls away from her forehead. Her braid dripped along her shoulder and she shivered at the water that managed to get under her coat. She saw Bofur fuss with something in his pack and she leaned over to see.

“What are you doing, Master Bofur?” Bo said over the rain. The dwarf huffed and glanced around at the other ponies, perturbed. His hat tipped one way and water poured from the edge.

“There was a cloth I had for Bifur, for his axe.” Bofur gestured to his cousin’s head and Bifur seemed to sink into his shoulders. Bo blinked and then it dawned on her.

“Oh goodness, the rusting!” Bo gasped. Bofur nodded and sighed, moving to rip something from his traveling pack. Before he could, though, Bo removed her tough scarf. The old wool and silk scarf had been worn to threads, but it kept her warm. She reached over and snagged Bifur’s elbow with the tips of her fingers. He looked up and his pony slowed as Myrtle stopped beside them.

Bo leaned closer and reached up toward Bifur’s larger head. “Come here, please.” She said softly with a smile. Bifur froze and stared at her, but then with the slow shift of snow, he neared her. She smiled brighter even through the rain and gently wrapped her scarf around his head in a strange sort of cloth helm. She leaned away back into her saddle and nodded her head. “There. Does that feel better?”

Bifur murmured something in Khuzdul and his fingers traced the closest fold of the scarf around his forehead. He glanced at Bo almost shyly and nodded his head. His hand came up to his mouth and he pulled it away, toward her. She grinned at the sign, _thank you._ She brought her good hand up and gestured to reply, _you are welcome, my friend._

The smile that lit his face warmed her heart and she felt just a tiny bit of it fall off into the figurative cage of his hands. She hadn’t noticed that the line had stopped to watch them, or that Bofur had stopped and grinned like a fool at the sight of the two of them. She couldn’t know that the Durin princes watched her with bright curiosity or the frown their uncle bore in confusion. Gandalf’s voice broke through the silence as he talked about the weather, to which Dori testily requested that the rain be put to a stop.

Bifur sat straighter in his saddle and Bofur laughingly explained that the scarf appeared quite stylish for Bifur’s collection of odd fashion. Bo wasn’t sure if that was to be a compliment or a strange insult, but considering how happy Bifur appeared, she took it for the better. Despite the chill of the rain that fell, Bo’s center was happily warm and tight.

0o0

The grassy hills gave way to valleys and low riding boulders. The trees thickened for a few miles and Gandalf trotted beside Thorin, their voices hushed but sharp. Bo frowned thoughtfully as Gandalf shook his head and his horse trotted away. They came around to a clearing and Bo found it curious that there were remnants of fields around them. _Lettuce? Those are heads of lettuce, how peculiar… Are those carrots? And potatoes!_ Myrtle stopped and without a thought, Bo slid off from the saddle and wandered around their campsite.

“A farmer… and his family used to live here.” Gandalf’s voice carried down from where he stood just above on the rise with Thorin. Bo moved toward them and as she did, little by little, a shattered home stood before Gandalf with Thorin pacing within the naked walls. Bo stopped and glanced around at the forgotten fields. _That explains the rows and produce. Nature abhors a straight line…_ Gandalf cleared his throat, “We should find some other place to camp.”

“No.” Thorin said firmly with his hand on his sword and another on his belt. “We’ll rest here, the sun is nearly gone and we don’t have time to find another space such as this. Gloin, get a fire started.”

“We could make for the Hidden Valley.” Gandalf implored. Bo wandered closer with her gaze flickering over the destroyed home. _Was this a fire? No, it couldn’t have been, there’s no burn marks… The plants are still green and there are no new sprouts._ “We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond would offer us food and rest, safety. Thorin, I ask you to reconsider.”

“I will not willing walk into the hands of my enemy.” Bo vague heard Thorin’s growl as her hands trailed over the stone and wood of the home. A break in a beam caught her attention and she leaned up close to inspect it. _This has been snapped. Oh, Gods._ Her eyes widened in surprise. _The wolves could do this; they were large enough to break the gates…_ Bo swallowed and a distant howl within her memories echoed through her ears. She stepped away with her hand shaking.

“They are not your enemy, Thorin!” Gandalf hissed. “I did not give you that map and key so that you may hang onto the threads of the past and repeat the same mistakes!”

“This is my own path and I must take it as I see fit, and I have decided, Master Wizard, that we will avoid the Hidden Valley. So say I!” Thorin commanded with a low voice. Bo peered around from a fallen wall and found Gandalf and Thorin facing each other, both with heavy glares. The exiled-king’s shoulders were tense and set, like a battering ram tight to slam away, but Gandalf slumped, defeated.

“Thorin,” Gandalf sighed and leaned against his staff heavily. Bo bit her lip and resisted the urge to go forward and offer her support to the elderly wizard.

“ _No._ ” Thorin repeated deeply from his gut. “What help could come from the Elves? They looked on as my people wandered from the scorched home of their families – the _Elves_ did nothing as my people struggled – they _betrayed_ my family and we all suffer for their disinterest in _helping_.” It was strange, for at first Bo could hear the anger that colored the king’s voice, but the pain that followed and it only seemed to enrage him more as he spoke. Bo cleared her throat and stepped forward as both Gandalf and Thorin turned to glare at her.

Bo resisted the urge to shrink into her shoulders. “I agree with Gandalf,” and with a snort from Thorin with a shake of his head, Bo hastily added, “but not for the reasons you believe.”

“Then why and why would I consider your words?” Thorin challenged and now turned to face her. She swallowed and straightened her back so that her forehead could reach just at the edge of his chin.

“This home, something crushed it.” Bo looked up at the slanted roof and pointed to snapped beams. “There, see? Fire doesn’t do that. And it hasn’t rained hard enough to flood the fields, as the vegetables are still snug in the soil. The plants… they’re crushed around the house. Gandalf…” Bo turned her blue-eyed gaze to the Wizard who now peered at the broken home with a renewed suspicion. “I’ve only seen this… when the wolves broke through the gates and smashed into the homes along the Shire.”

Gandalf stepped forward to Thorin, coming between Bo and the Dwarf King. “Miss Baggins is right. This is not natural, and I do not feel comfortable with the Company stopping here for camp. We do not know what happened here.”

“I will not have it; it is too late to find a new camp, in any regard. We will rest here, and keep a watch. Fili! Kili!” Thorin stomped away from Gandalf and Bo, “Take the ponies and guard them! Dwalin, you are to have first watch.” Angrily, Gandalf clicked the end of his staff against the ground and strode away from the camp. Bo followed worriedly at his heels.

“Gandalf!” She called to him, breathless, “where are you going?”

“To find company in the only one around here who has any sense!” Gandalf shouted as he broke through the Company, Bofur and Bifur hastily skittering out of the way. A few of the ponies whined at the Wizard, annoyed. Bo could feel an uneasy twist come into her stomach and settle. She swallowed and set about with the others to ready the camp. The sight of the crushed home unnerved her and to stay in the shadow of it felt disrespectful. _This doesn’t feel right._ The young princes corralled the ponies away from the camp and Bombur soon had another stew going.

The sun slowly slipped out of the sky and the stars brightened along the darkened blanket overhead and Bo grumbled with worry. “He’s been away an awfully long time.” She murmured to no one in particular.

Bofur turned to her with a bowl of stew in his hand. “Who? Gandalf?” He handed her the bowl, “He’s a wizard, mistress, and he’ll do as he pleases. Here, you mind doing us a favor and feeding the lads?” Suddenly, two bowls were placed into her hands and he moved her along toward the end of the camp. “I’ll have your bowl ready for you when you return.”

 _Was he supposed to be gone for this long? What if something happened to him? What if he’s hurt?_ Bo worried the bottom of her lip between her teeth as she carefully made her way through the darkness toward the young princes. _And whose bright idea was it to send me out into the dark wood without a torch? Daft._ She came upon Fili and Kili soon enough, but their still backs concerned her.

“Here you go,” She said softly, holding the bowls out to them at the height of their chests, but they did not move. She glanced between them and noted the furrow of their brows. “Is… something the matter?”

“We’ve encountered a slight problem, mistress.” Kili murmured and turned his pinched brow to her. “We were supposed to look out for the ponies.”

“Annnd…?” Bo said, glancing at the small herd of ponies that grazed along their hooves.

“Well, we _had_ sixteen.” Kili answered a bit sheepishly.

“Now we have _fourteen_.” Fili finally added with a heavy sigh. Bo blinked in surprise and looked around the princes, quietly counting the ponies herself. She closed her eyes tightly when she realized that they did, indeed, have only fourteen ponies. She turned and looked, but there was no sign of the other animals.

“It’s Daisy and Bungo missing, no? Why would they wander off?” She said softly, the bowls slopping slightly in her hands. She flicked her gaze up to Fili, “Should we inform Thorin?”

“No,” Fili said hastily and cast a skittish look to her. “Let’s not worry just yet. We thought…” He shot a look at Kili and added, “ – that you might want to take a look?”

“Yes!” Kili came around her side and took the bowls from her hands. “Since you made a good show of inspecting the old home and field.”

“It wasn’t a show,” Bo muttered through her tight lips. She turned and softly padded through the area, but it wasn’t hard to spot. A tree was tipped, its roots yanked from the ground. _How did that happen? How did the boys miss it?_ She followed the line of the tree and her hand ghosted over the bark; she stopped just before the branches. “Something big uprooted these trees… I wonder…”

Fili moved in close next to her. “Wonder what, mistress?”

“If what uprooted these trees… are what smashed the cabin?” She murmured thoughtfully. Fili and Kili shared a look over her. Kili gasped lightly and gripped her shoulder, leaning over to point out into the darkness. “Look! A light! Down, mistress!” She had no say in the matter as Kili hauled her down by her shoulder and Fili took her elbow and did the same. She tumbled down beside them and there was a crash not far from their place in hiding.

All three of them looked between each other and then hurriedly followed the giant creature. They huddled by a fallen tree and peered over toward the fire light that danced in the distance. _Trolls!_ Bo thought with surprise. _How? Mother – the Rangers, they said such things wouldn’t be found beyond… oh my._ The creature stomped past them and to Bo’s horror, it carried two more of the ponies.

“It has Myrtle and Minty!” Bo hissed angrily. Her own pony angrily whined and squealed as the troll hefted her under his arm, and Minty nipped at the hard skin. _Thorin’s pony! Oh, he’ll be so cross!_ Bo stood and tried to heave herself over the log, “We have to get them back!” But before she could throw herself over, a pair of hands caught her small waist and another snagged her arm to yank her back.

“No!” Fili hissed at her as he pulled her back over the fallen tree. “Are you mad? They’ll take you and eat you whole!”

“Here, mistress,” Kili whispered to her and turned her around back toward the camp. “Now we must tell Thorin, go back to the camp and warn him – Fili and I will handle this.” Bo’s weakest hand gripped the hard edge of his brace and held on as tightly as she could muster with her crooked fingers.

“Are _you_ mad? Wait for me to fetch Thorin, _do not –_ ” Bo threatened thickly with a finger shoved into Fili’s chest, “ – go throwing yourself into that camp without the others, I’ll skin you alive myself!” Bo tugged her coat up around her tightly and turned to sprint back toward the camp. The fallen branches snapped under her heavy heels and she came careening into the camp, nearly knocking over Dwalin as she stumbled into the firelight.

“Thorin!” Bo called for him desperately. “Where’s Thorin? Here!” Thorin stormed into her line of sight and took Dwalin by his shoulder and moved him away to bring his steady gaze to Bo. She swallowed and pointed behind her. “The lads – the ponies went missing, there – we found them –”

Calmly, Thorin brought a warm hand to her shoulder and leaned down slightly to be at eye level with her. His voice resonated with care, “Breathe, mistress. What did you see?” He asked slowly and she realized that she had allowed her panic to control her. She spoke far too quickly for them to make out her words. She swallowed thickly and again, pointed to where she had left the princes.

“ _Trolls,_ Thorin! Three of them – and I fear the lads will attempt to –” She hadn’t bothered beyond the word trolls. Thorin released her and pushed her toward Bofur. The other dwarf caught her, but everyone’s attention was to Thorin. The king yanked his sword into his grip and picked up his oak branch shield and nodded to Dwalin. The largest dwarf pulled out his axe and growled something in Khuzdul to the others. Bofur turned Bo to him and his face was hard with determination.

“Stay here, lass.” Bofur commanded and moved her toward her bedroll.

“No!” Bo fought his hold on her arms and went to pick up her sword. “I’m going with you!”

“Mistress,” Bofur frowned and held her hand to still her movements. “Do not do this. We cannot help the lads if we are concerned with looking out for you. Please.” He begged at the end, his brows drooping to echo the sadness in his voice. Bo felt searing heat flash up her spine and she growled. Bofur wouldn’t budge and he stared at her until she relented. With a nod, the dwarf collected his weapon and followed his companions.

The fire flickered within its makeshift hearth and Bo could feel none of its heat. She paced around the camp and her limbs trembled with anxiety and uselessness. A sweat started to build along her forehead and under her braid at the back of her neck. She wrung her hands together and her crooked fingers felt a phantom pain she had not hand in years. _I must help them! I’m not useless; they don’t need to defend me._ After a while, Bo gave in to her anxiety and picked up her sword and hurried to the trolls’ campsite.

She could hear very little through the thickness of the trees and she hurried through the darkness. At the edge of the camp, she gasped and ducked behind a tree. She whined soft and low in her throat to see the dwarves captured, trapped in sack bags and even a few on the fire to roast. _Think, Bo Billa, think! Get them out, get them out, get them out._ Bo wandered one way down the camp, and then down the other side, looking for anything to give her an edge.

“Don’t bother with cooking them!” A troll suddenly growled. “Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly!”

“No!” Another shouted and reached over to slap the first who spoke. “They should be sautéed and grilled, with a sprinkle of sage.” Bo stopped cold and tossed a severe glance over her shoulder at the trolls. _Grilled? Sage? Oh, you have got to be joking._ Who knew trolls cared what their cooking had in its recipe? Bo shook her head and finally reached the edge of the camp where the horses were kept. She pulled out her sword and with one half-glance at the trolls; she sawed away at the rope that held the fence up.

The dwarves that were turned over the fire snapped and snarled at the trolls that argued over them, but Bo did not stop. The ponies needed to be freed and hopefully they would prove to be a good distraction. The rope finally split and Bo hesitated at the gate as one of the trolls stomped around the fire. “Never mind the seasoning! We ain’t got all night and dawn is soon coming – I don’t fancy being turned to stone.”

Her hands stopped and her fingers went cold. _Dawn? Turned to stone? Gods above, then – then I only need to stall them!_ With a flick of her arms, the gate swung open and she hissed at Myrtle. The pony nickered and galloped out of the pen, the other ponies soon followed and nearly tripped over Bo on their way to get out. Bo dove away from the gate and behind a rock near the pen when she heard one of the trolls roar in surprise.

“Oy! Get them! The nads are escaping!” One of them shouted. Hastily and with a shake of fear, Bo scrambled away from the pen and rolled around the rock toward the other side. She fell near Thorin and Oin and the exiled-king’s gaze went wide and he opened his mouth, either to scold her or tell her to run. She slapped her hand with her crooked fingers over his mouth and shushed him, her face close to his and her blue gaze in a glare.

“Dawn, Thorin!” She hissed at him. “We just need to outwit them until then!” Bo reached for his ties and desperately tried to get them loose to have him escape and help her. She only got one knot out before there was a hard stomp behind her. Bo looked up over her shoulder, but it was too late to run. A massive hand came down and crushed her ribs to her lungs and she gasped with pain.

“Look here, lads!” The troll roughly brought her up to his eyes. “Another one!”

“No – that one looks different.” The second groused. “He’s smaller! There’s hardly any meat on him!”

“Can I eat him?”

“Here, there’s plenty for us all. This is just a snack.” Bo gasped and gagged at the stench that wafted up into her face from the rotting mouth before her. She coughed and turned her face away the closer she was pulled to the creature’s face. She could hear the dwarves shouting now, desperately trying to distract the trolls from eating her. A chill settled down her neck from the touch of her sweat and she shook in the creature’s hold. A flash of phantom blade came before her eyes and there was a high squeal – a goblin’s howl – in the back of her mind. She shuddered with fear – _Don’t you faint, Bo Billa, fight!_

Rage tangled up in Bo’s stomach and violently twisted her organ to the point that she gritted her teeth and viciously wrenched her right arm out from the fingers of the troll’s grip. She only had a few seconds and the edges of her vision were blurry from her frenzy, but she balled up her fist as far as her crooked fingers would allow and threw a wild haymaker that collided with the troll’s nose. She managed to hit the soft cartilage between the nostrils and the troll howled in surprise. She was thrown, dropped to the ground and she rolled against the rock, her back felt like it split down the middle with pain and a white-hot knife. She rolled onto her feet and clutched her hand to her chest as the pain throbbed angrily through her palm.

“The little blighter hit me!” Cried the troll and held his nose. Bo snorted into the dirt and felt dizzy as she tried to sit up right. _I barely hit harder than the wind does a branch!_ She coughed as dirt burned up her nose and she felt a cold stickiness slip down her face. _Gods, I’m bleeding. Excellent._ Dirt, sweat, and blood mixed together and she clicked her teeth together. She found a sword on the ground, not her own, and pulled it with all her might. It weighed an uncomfortable mass and her body rocked with its presence. She recognized the bronze blade, the star-blaze at the end of it. _Balin._

She stood, defiant, the sword pulling her to one side with its weight and her hand with the crooked fingers tightly wrapped against her stomach. She glared up at the trolls that surrounded her, one eye tightly shut as the blood dripped into it. She used Balin’s sword to hold herself up as much as to look like a threat and morbidly found a small hint of amusement at the idea of the sword being kicked out from under her, sending her into a sprawl.

“Doesn’t deserve to be eaten, for all the trouble it’s given us.” Growled the biggest troll. He reached down to take another swing at Bo, but she stepped back and swung Balin’s sword with all that she could muster. She winded herself just by trying to lift it to the level of her hip, but she clipped the fingers of the approaching troll.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Bo growled as loudly as she could with the dirt in her throat, “ _you touch me._ ” A thick blackness had taken her vision and all she could focus on was the threat in front of her, the faces of the trolls. The weight of the sword felt good and left a burn in her muscles. Her shoulder was tight with pain and her fingers sweated around the handle of the blade, but she would not let go – _not this time!_

“Look at that, lads.” One of the trolls laughed. “It means to fight us! Come here, creature, and save yourself the trouble.” The troll lashed out at her and Bo stumbled back over her heels and slammed into the boulder. She hissed and could feel the roll of movement spark through her arm to swing. Through the darkness in her vision, she could see the sword come up to her shoulder and the tip of it land in the soft skin between the troll’s fingers.

“ _I said don’t!_ ”

“Enough already!” Roared one of the trolls, “take him now!”

“ _The dawn will take you all!_ ”

Bo recognized the voice, but the blinding flash of light cracked the dark tunnel that had consumed her vision and she gasped. Balin’s sword was dropped and her arm came up to shield her eyes. The last of what she could see before her world suddenly shifted to one side was the trolls and their skins crumbling into stone.

… _Gandalf._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a tumblr for this story and its followers. Look for PickleDillo, as always! Also, PTSD is not an easy thing to deal with, and watching my brother struggle with it is what inspires my version of battle-scarred Bo. I hope I managed to describe the struggle and flashbacks well enough to give it some justice. Peace to all those who suffer its weight.


	9. A Rose in Thorns

**Chapter 9**

**A Rose in Thorns**

* * *

_“Is she dead?” Sharp nails hooked her coat and pulled at her clothes. Bo could feel her throat constrict with a scream trapped under her tongue. No amount of will seemed to make her voice break through her silence. Another claw caught her curly hair and pulled back to expose her neck. She heard it, the echoing scream that made her eyes water, but nothing came from her throat or lungs. She was as silent as death, and she prayed to whatever Gods would listen that she wasn’t._

_“Take her.”_

The first thing that Bo became aware of was the soft feel of cloth against her forehead. Blearily, she rolled her eyes behind her eyelids and the dirt within them. She coughed gently and a hand came to rest on her cheek. “Easy, my dear girl, easy.” That sounded like… _Gandalf_. A wet slip of cloth cleaned away at her face and slowly, she remembered being tossed. She groaned and opened her eyes to bright light of a morning sun and she hissed. Her hand came up to her face, but before she could rub at her eyes, her palm was caught against another’s. She blinked and looked up to find a smiling Bofur.

“By Mahal,” he exhaled with relief, his fingers tightened around her small hand, “you gave us quite a scare, little mistress.” He pulled her up gently and she could hear Oin grumbling behind her, the cloth now gone _. Was he cleaning my wound? What wound?_ She looked over her shoulder with confusion and Oin huffed as he cleaned his cloth.

“Your head bashed against a rock when they threw you.” He said roughly and flicked out his cloth with a hard jerk of his wrist. “Surprised us all, the crack was so loud, we thought you dead – but, lo and behold, your stubbornness may rival ours, because you _stood_.”

“I… had to,” Bo murmured with a scratchy voice. “I couldn’t… let them take you all.” There was a silence that fell over the group and Oin’s hand fell away from her face. She looked up and found several frowning faces that surrounded her. “Did I… say something wrong?” Ori shifted uncomfortably by Dori’s side and Nori narrowed his eyes at her, but no one seemed willing to answer her. Bofur shifted back into her line of sight.

“No, little mistress.” Bofur smiled at her. “Here. Let’s get you patched up and moving, shall we?” Bofur and Oin pulled her to her feet and she gently brushed off her clothes. The leather armor she wore under her trousers and coat had served her well for a bit of scruff. Bifur was being helped back into his pants by Dwalin and Dori, and the others managed well enough on their own. Gandalf came up beside her and placed a soft hold on her shoulder.

“How are you, Bo?” The wizard asked quietly. Bo could only bring her watery blue eyes up to his face and nod. She was fine, she could see straight, at least. She told him as much and he sighed heavily with a hand that passed through her curls and down to the end of her braid. “Hobbits, such remarkably sturdy creatures.” He patted her shoulder and stood to his full height. Bo shakily followed him with Bofur close at hand. She swallowed and turned to the dwarf.

“You hover as if I am about to break.” Bo said with a hiccup, having not yet found the full strength of her voice. Bofur gave her a nervous chuckle and shrugged his shoulders and there she noticed that his clothing was askew. His coat slanted one way and his hat was nearly off his head. Bofur reached up and tugged it hastily back into place with a weak smile.

“With all due respect, mistress, you… flew about the length of three carts. We…” Bofur trailed off with his hands wavering by his sides. Bo stopped and glanced back to where she had fallen. There on the ground was a small speck of blood and trails through the dirt of where the blade had swung and her feet had slipped. She looked back to the campfire and the trolls, _by the Gods, he’s right… how did I survive that?_ Her hand went up to her temple and felt the small cut that she now bore. It was just above her eye and her old scar. She scoffed and dropped her hand and continued to walk away.

“Mountain trolls.” Gandalf murmured. He tapped the shoulder of one of them. His hand came up and combed down his long graybeard and he hummed in thought. Bo came up and walked past him as Thorin moved toward the wizard.

“They could not have moved in daylight. How is it that they are here, wizard?” Thorin asked quietly, a low worry in his voice. Bo retrieved her sword that had been lost in the fray and inspected it. She frowned deeply and turned the sword over to find several notches in the blade. Gloin’s shadow appeared over her shoulder.

“That’s no good, lass.” He said as he took the blade from her hands. She sighed and pressed the tips of her fingers to the dips of her eyes and frowned into her palm. Gloin huffed, “We have several blacksmiths in our Company, but with no smithy or forge, we are useless to you.”

Bo glanced up at the blade and then to Gloin, “What am I to do, then? I haven’t shot a bow and arrow in many years. It would be laughable, even after I was killed.” Gloin snorted and sheathed her blade before offering her a hand. Curious, she took it and he led her away with the rest of the camp.

“We’ll find something for you.” He assured her. “For now, we shall keep the blade and see if we can salvage it later on, should the opportunity arise.” Bo nodded her head and smiled briefly at the dwarf, thankful for his words. There was a small commotion just beyond them and Gloin released her hand to follow the Company. Bo paused and turned her head up to see the full length of the mouth that led into the cave. She stepped toward the shadow of it and then gagged immediately. Her hand slapped up to her mouth and she stumbled back.

 _It smells like death!_ She swallowed thickly and shook her head. She would not be following the Company in there. Instead, she paced around under the cliff of the cave and could hear the rumble of voices from within and as they differed further away, she grew anxious. It wasn’t long before they returned and a few of them snickered, pocketing a few gleaming items in the many hiding places within their coats and armor.  She raised an eyebrow and smirked, _dwarves._

“Bo, come here, my dear.” Gandalf called to her. Startled, Bo hustled over to the tall wizard and peered up at him with wide eyes. From behind his back he produced a short sword in a smooth leather sheath that blinked with a bright sheen she hadn’t seen before. Awed, she held her hands out and the wizard placed the weapon in her hold. She looked up to him and smiled widely. Her hand gripped the handle and pulled it out. The blade sung lightly as it was removed and shone like a star even in the dim morning light.

“Gandalf,” Bo said breathlessly, “It’s beautiful.”

“It was made in the First Age, by the high elves. See this, the blade shall glow blue, when Orcs or Goblins come near.” He smiled gently at her and tapped his staff lightly. “May the blade serve you faithfully in the days that come.” With that, he moved on to the front of the line and Bo followed with unsteady feet, still at odds with the beauty of the blade she had been given. She hooked the sheath around her belt that held her leather armor in place around her hips and grinned at Bofur when he spotted the blade.

She had no time to explain, though, as a crashing sound echoed around them through the trees. Alarmed, Bo drew her new sword and once more, the blade’s hymn resonated through the air as it was released. A sled and rabbits came barreling into their clearing and Bo found that she was pressed between Nori and Bofur, their own weapons at the ready. Upon the sled came a raggedy man dressed in tattered cloaks. Birds fluttered around his head and panicked whistling filled the air. A staff clinked haphazardly against the sled and nearly slipped from the old man’s hand when he came to a full and abrupt stop.

“Radagast!”

0o0 

“What’s taking them so long?”

“Master Bofur, I do believe you were the one that mentioned wizards doing as they pleased.” Bofur shot her one of the sharpest looks she had seen on his face yet and she could do nothing more than flash a mischievous grin in return. He was steady for a moment before his face relented and the twinkling came back into his eyes.

“You’ve certainly found your tongue, aye, mistress?” Bofur pinched her chin playfully between his thumb and index. Bo snickered and gently smacked his hand away from her face. Around them the Company was split. Thorin remained as close to the wizards as possible without intruding into their conversation, Dwalin and Balin not too far from his side. Nori and Dori stood above them on a small ledge and the oldest brother had his arms crossed with a heavy frown upon his lips.

Ori sat next to Bo, his journal open and if she peered over her shoulder with enough stealth, Bo could see the beginnings of Bifur’s axe and forehead along the top of the parchment. Bifur and Bombur stood the furthest from the group and both seemed intent on their conversation, with Bifur’s animated hands nearly punching Bombur clear through his nose. Bo chuckled at the sight and turned the sword over in her hands, her gaze cast out over the Company.

Then a howl ripped through the air. In an instant, Bo was on her feet and her sword gripped tightly in her fingers. Bofur was up on his feet and beside her at the ready. “Was that a wolf?” Bo cried, a tremble echoed through her muscles. “Are there wolves out here? Gandalf!” Her voice cracked over the wizard’s name. It was only a single howl, but many more of them rolled through her memories and she almost allowed her sword to slip from her hands. Bofur held her shoulder and leaned close to her.

“Steady, mistress, steady.” Bofur tightened his fingers and she could feel it through her armor, and then his hand slipped away from her shoulder. Though it stilled her quivering muscles, it did nothing to slow the frantic thump of her heart. Her skin itched at the handle of the sword and the tip rose higher in the air. Her eyes narrowed and she tensed to keep her muscles still. A chill ran down her neck and into her back and she gritted her teeth behind her lips. _Don’t lose your nerve, Bo. Do as Bofur says; steady._ The Company drew close together and kept her near the center. A sharp howl from behind caused them to turn around and into the gaze of a pouncing warg.

“Thorin!” Bo shouted with a strangled voice. The warrior king had his new blade drawn and skillfully skewered the warg through its skull. The lifeless body tipped forward from its momentum and Thorin was dragged down along with it. It gave the rider astride the warg a chance to strike, but a mighty blow from Dwalin cleared him from the back of the warg and into the ground in a tangle of limbs. The bite of Dwalin’s axe was deep and the orc choked on its blood before sighing in death.

“An Orc scout,” Thorin spat as he pulled his blade out in a swift yank. He looked up to Dwalin, then over to Gandalf. “If there is one, there is another and a pack not far behind it.”

“Orc _pack_?” Bo squeaked in a high voice. “Then we must run!”

“Where?” Demanded Fili, his double blades held tightly against his sides. He tossed his gaze between Gandalf and Thorin, a hard pull to the middle of his heavy brow. “We are leagues from anywhere safe!”

“No, we’re not.” Bo hissed and nearly swung her sword into the ground from her frustration. She turned to Gandalf and pleaded, “Gandalf, the elves, please! They will help us, we are not far from Riven – ”

“ _No._ ” Thorin hissed at her with narrowed eyes. “We shall make a stand here; we won’t run from this threat.”

“Against how many?” Bo challenged and stepped up to the exiled king with a boiling rage in her stomach. “Save yourself from your own stubbornness, we have no account of their numbers and the area is unknown to us. What are we to _do_?” She demanded with only her arm’s length between them. Thorin did not waver and his stone glare fixed her to her spot, but she continued. “Are we to climb the trees, then? Kili is the only one useful from there – or Ori! And what will arrows and sharp rocks do against a _pack_?”

“I shall lead them off!” Radagast interrupted with a strike of his staff against the ground. The Company turned to him, half of them surprised, the other half still on edge from the attack. Gandalf glanced at his fellow wizard with a mixture of disbelief and pain, and he shook his head before stepping up to his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, Radagast.” Gandalf murmured to his companion. “They will outrun you!”

“ _These_ are Rhosgobel Rabbits!” Radagast answered confidently amidst another howl from around them. He grinned under his beard and shook his staff into Gandalf’s face. “I will greatly enjoy seeing them try!” But Gandalf was struck with hesitation and he paused for a long moment before a sigh escaped him. He released the brown wizard and waved him off. Bo held her onto her sword with a slipping grip as the other wizard disappeared into the brush and glanced down at the blade to find it glowing as brightly blue as the sky above them. The beauty of the blade only unnerved her. Bofur pressed into her side and the normal shine in his gaze had hardened into the glint of a fighter’s resolve.

Gandalf hastily split through the Company, “Gather your things! Quickly, quickly! We haven’t time, we must fly, and now!” A pack was shoved into Bo’s hands and with a clumsy swing she had the bag slung over her shoulder and against her back. She sheathed her weapon to keep from fumbling with it as she ran and without a thought she took Bifur’s hand as he held it out for her. Bifur pulled her along and she struggled to keep his pace. Her short legs failed to cover the length of his strides and a searing throb quaked within her skull from the place of her newest wound.

The forest disappeared from around them and the landscape gave way to rolling plains and snarling boulders protruding as teeth from the ground. Bo lost her grip on Bifur’s hand and the dwarf snapped his words in Khuzdul. Almost immediately a panicked scream started to work its way up through her throat as the pounding of paws echoed in her thoughts with bright flashes of rotted gums and broken teeth clouded her vision. A hard slap to her back forced her to swallow her terror and she found Nori’s strong grip take her elbow and bring her hard against his side.

A stitch began to grow in her right side. It had been years since she had sprinted and so suddenly, as well. She wheezed lightly as they took a sharp turn and pressed into the curve of another boulder. Ori nearly flew into the open, but Thorin grabbed the back of his coat and hauled him back into cover and into the arms of his older brother. Bo was tightly smothered against the rock and Nori’s larger form, his hand over her mouth to hide her heavy breathing. Bo closed her eyes tightly and the throb from her skull produced a heat behind her eyes that made them water.

She knew her breathing was loud and was thankful for Nori’s steady hand. She gripped his wrist and held his hand there and she desperately tried to calm her frantic inhales. Before she had her bearings and her vision could stop swimming, Nori drew her away from the protection of the rock and into Ori’s back. Between Dori and Nori, Ori and Bo ran as best they could, their bones jostled about within their skin from sudden turns and quick drops. Bo gasped in pain, her eyes watery and her vision a blurred mess of colors and an edge of blackness. She clung helplessly to Ori’s coat and the younger dwarf reached behind him to take her other hand and pull her closer to his side.

They came to another brutal stop and Bo nearly skidded off the sole of her heels when they did. She found herself wrapped in Bofur’s arms with her back against his chest. He pulled her scarf from Bifur’s neck and hastily wrapped it around her neck and face, hiding her more feminine features. Bifur growled in Khuzdul and Bofur hissed in reply, “You know they go for the women first!” Now she felt like she was suffocating and the scarf became a noose around her neck. Another wave of panic spiraled through her muscles and she gripped Bofur’s arms to steady her trembling. He tightened his hold around her and whispered, “Hush, mistress, shh-shh!”

There was a growl from above and the sound of a warg’s padding paws silenced her. She held on to Bofur’s arms and inhaled to hold her erratic breathing at bay until the danger could pass. She reached up and shifted her scarf around her eyes slightly to better see around her, but from the corner of her vision, Kili spun away from the boulder and drew his bow and arrow up into the sky. The arrow was fired and down tumbled a wounded warg and its rider. Both easily and quickly dispatched by the surrounding members of the Company.

“They will have heard him! Run, quickly!” Gandalf commanded and shoved Thorin out into the open. The warrior-king led them further into the valley and Bo placed a shaking hand on the hilt of her sword as she ran. There was nowhere to hide; the plains went on for as far as her keen eyes could see. _We will have to stand and fight, there is no choice!_ Chaos erupted around her as the Company dissolved into islands, each to their own weapons and panic.

“Where’s Gandalf?”

“Kili, shoot!”

“Look out, Dori!”

“He’s abandoned us, Thorin,” Dwalin’s voice broke out from the mayhem. “I told you not to trust a wizard!” Bo’s gaze flickered around the open valley in search of the familiar grey robes and hat. She couldn’t see the old wizard anywhere and a hot bubble of irritation smoldered in her stomach. _He couldn’t have left us! Where would he have gone?_ She spun on her heels looking for any form of cover, and finally spotted the tip of Gandalf’s hat disappearing within one of the rocks.

“This way!” Bo shouted. She pulled her blade out from its sheath and allowed the blade to sing in the light of day as she pointed it toward the rock. “Cover, right there!” No sooner had she warn them to turn when Gandalf’s face appeared from within the rock. He waved and the Company drew closer to the rocks when able. Bo was nearly there, Bofur at her back, when she spied Kili still fending off wargs with what little arrows he had left. She turned, “Bofur, the lad!” A hard look came over her protector’s face and he dashed to Kili. The young prince nearly through off the other dwarf, but Bofur’s strength held and he dragged Kili away from the battle, wargs hot on their heels.

Bo reached the edge of cover and Thorin wasted no time in yanking her over by her shoulder. She tumbled into the darkness and crashed into an awaiting Bombur. The larger dwarf hurriedly turned and secured her behind him to protect her from the other falling members. Bo was shaking, her sword rattled in her palms and she pressed the tip of the blade into the ground as an anchor. She swallowed thickly and coughed on the dirt that dammed her nose and throat. Her blue gaze flashed up to the mouth of their escape and the last of the Company tumbled down into the darkness.

Instantly, Bofur was on his feet and to his brother. Bombur pointed over his shoulder to her and Bofur nearly lost his muscles from sagging in relief as hard as he did. Bo could only offer him a weak smile and she sheathed her sword with clumsy fingers. Once the sword was away, the heels of her palms came up to her eyes and she pressed them into her sockets hard. She rubbed away what tears threatened to fall and she inhaled several times to control the beating of her frightened heart. _This is nothing like traveling with the Rangers. They always spotted the orcs or goblins miles before we were in danger. It’s been twenty years nearly since then,_ Bo looked up to the jagged edges of the ceiling and sighed tightly with a choked sob on her lips, _what am I doing here? This is no place for a hobbit! Lest of all one past her prime._

A horn cried in the distance and the Company went still. Gandalf looked into the filtered light coming through their crack into the passageway and Thorin growled low in his throat, “ _Elves._ ” The wizard shot him a stern frown, but Dwalin’s voice broke through from behind them.

“There is a path!” He called from away. “But I cannot see where it leads. Do we follow it, or no?!”

Bofur gripped Bo’s elbow tightly, “Follow it, of course!” Then with a hearty shove, she was placed at the front of the line and marched up to Dwalin. The older warrior gave her a once over and his heavy brow furrowed. He placed a much gentler hand on her shoulder and pulled her behind him. She followed in his shadow as closely as she could, but her feet staggered and her heels itched with pain. Soon, she was walking slower than the rest of the Company, and when one or two of them tried to lead her on, she waved them away. _I’m tired,_ she wanted to tell them, _I haven’t run that long or that hard in years. I can barely lift my legs to walk, lest of all keep up with you._ But her mouth would not move, and she would not bring herself to complain, not when the others had been through worse.

The crags above them were angry slips of sharp edges and Bo mindlessly wandered behind the Company while her eyes stayed above her in, counting the rays of sunlight that fluttered through the top. Then a small tingle gently curled up her legs and left tendrils of warmth throughout her limbs. The heavy stone that had sat in her stomach crumbled away and she felt light on her feet. She paused and blinked, but the dwarves continued to walk on with no notice to the change in the air. Gandalf came up alongside her and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“You feel it.” Gandalf said and she knew it wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “It’s… magic. Warm magic. Elf work.” Her blue gaze flickered to the line of dwarves, mindful of the words she said as she followed once more, with Gandalf behind her. “Are we…?”

“We are close.” He answered her hurriedly. A soft, easy smile came to Bo’s face and twisted her scar along her face slightly. She sighed and her feet carried her with more determination. _Rivendell. The home of Lord Elrond. I never thought I would see the day…_ She glanced up to the line of the Company and with renewed energy, she shouldered her pack higher and shuffled through the members of the group. Being a Hobbit as she was, it was with ease that she could slip past them, a few laughed at her squirrely movements and made way for her as she tried to get to the front.

“Hold on, mistress.” Dwalin caught her shoulder and held her behind Thorin as they poured into the cliff’s edge that overlooked the deep valley and the forest that sprouted throughout the halls and high rooms. Bo gasped at the warm sight of the slanted roofs and flowing fountains with the golden tint of the canopies and the heavy fall of branches into the homes.

“The Valley of Imladris. In the common tongue, it is known by another name.” Gandalf explained to the deathly silent group of dwarves. Bo bounced on the ends of her toes and gripped the strap over her shoulder with the excitement of a child. The sight of the elven home placed a spark of life in her chest and she grinned to the group behind her.

“Rivendell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the last chapters, but Rivendell itself is going to be one massive chapter on its own, so I hope you enjoy that!
> 
> In recent news, I have opened up a Tumblr (PickleDillo(dot)Tumblr(dot)Com), for this story and once I have the time for it, I’ll be putting up descriptions for Bo, hints to her past, answering questions about the story in a much more real time basis, as well as adding Tibbits that didn’t make it into the chapters!
> 
> As always, please read and review, it makes this processes so memorable!


	10. A Dream's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that moment when dreams become nightmares.

_Rivendell._

It was as if her mother's tales had sprung to life just before her eyes. She nearly slipped off the edge of the cliff in her wonderment had it not been for Nori's quick hands. He gripped her elbow and dragged her back, much to her embarrassment. She smiled softly at him and her sunburnt cheeks reddened even more. "I am sorry, Master Nori." The dwarf rolled his eyes at her and sent her on her way with the Company as they traveled down the edge of the walkway toward the curving entrance to Rivendell.

She slipped on her heel slightly as a bounce appeared in her steps and Bifur was now the one who caught her elbow to keep her from tumbling down the cliff side. Gandalf smiled at her indulgently but Thorin interrupted her happiness with a glare to pin her to the spot. Bo curled her shoulders inward and tucked her chin down a bit. Gandalf grumbled and Thorin turned his glare onto the wizard. He stepped in line of Gandalf and snorted.

"Was this your plan all along, then?" Thorin snapped. "You were to lead us into the clutches of our enemies?"

"You have no  _enemies_ , here, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf retorted hotly and glowered down along the length of his thick nose at the dwarf-king. "And the only ill-will that you will find here is that which you bring with you!" With that, Gandalf strode past the dwarf-king and continued to lead them down the cliff toward the entrance of Rivendell. Bo spared a glance at Thorin, but the molten silver of his eyes scorched her with a blistering gaze that she hurriedly shuffled her feet and followed the wizard.

Once in the shadow of Gandalf and with the Company following behind, Bo did her best to ignore the throb of her forehead as best she could and the wound that began to scab over. Her fear that it had been a serious gash faded in her mind. Gandalf peered over his shoulder and she was glad to see that the tension in his muscles had loosened and lessened in his body. Bo held onto her straps and squirreled around him with her eyes fixated on the warm roofs of the homes and balconies, and the glittering trees. Bo practically purred within her soul.

There were mutterings behind her between the dwarves and most of it was in Khuzdul. She glanced back to see them clustered together like eggs in a nest and their wary gazes flickered over the rooftops of the homestead before them. She sighed and was discouraged by their distrust.  _I did not think it would be so bad. Years have passed, and yet the hurt for them is deep. Their memory may rival that of the Elves._  She massaged the stiff joints of her crooked fingers and winced when they popped.

"You have not been to Rivendell; have you, my dear girl?" Gandalf spoke into the silence. With a beatific grin, Bo shook her head and rustled into her scarf around her neck happily.

"No, no I haven't." Bo whispered with wonder. "My mother told me stories and the only elves I ever came close to where… well." She cleared her throat and pulled her scarf up to her mouth and bit a slip of it between her pink lips. Blue eyes flickered down the steps and toward the entrance that came closer to them. A grumble came from behind them and Bo winced. She looked around at the Company once more to find that Kíli and Fíli watched them openly, but only Kíli smiled at her when they shared a gaze. Thorin's eyes drilled into Gandalf's back and Dwalin dutifully followed, his eyes bouncing along the edges of the cliff, looking for danger.

The entrance now came upon them. "But it is far more beautiful than I could have imagined, even with my mother's talent for tales." Bo sighed and she gripped the inside folds of her pockets within her coat.

"It's…  _nice,_ I suppose." Bofur called into the tense silence. There was a scoff from behind him and he shifted with his warm gaze at Bo. "But you have to see the mountains. The Blue Mountains, as you know them, are lovely, but…" His gaze changed and she could see as the warmth of sunlight came from within, "Erebor was a jewel. Glittering caves, rivers of gems, high ceilings and warm hearths that made the mountain glow from within."

As he spoke, Bifur's face relaxed and Bofur's shoulders sagged under his heavy clothing. Nori chuckled behind them and Balin sighed. For a moment, Bo's mind drifted back to the balminess of her garden and the radiance of her fireplace in a gentle rolling blaze. She could almost smell the smoke and she sighed.  _Home. Oh, goodness._  A quick hand with crooked fingers came up to her face and she pressed the corners of her eyes roughly to stop the drop of tears.  _Now they've made me miss it._  Bo sighed again, "It sounds… wonderful. It sounds a true sight to behold."

"If you think the architecture of the elves is impressive," Thorin's voice rumbled from the front, "Imagine a whole city that is twice the size of this Elvish homestead and it is built into the bones of the mountain. Erebor is long, tall, and echoing." Bo slowed and her eyes focused on Thorin, a new light to his silhouette. From Thorin, she could almost believe the magic of such a place to exist and not for the first time did she ache to see the glory of the mountain.

Bo smiled and then gazed at Thorin. "I can only imagine the magic your voices must make in those halls and I wonder if it is anything like the thunder I heard in my home." Thorin's shoulders hardened for a breath and his blue-silver gaze slid over his furred shoulders to her. It was barely noticeable, the smallest of smirks at the corner of his thick lips, but there it was. The Company around her took to preening at her compliment and it made Bo smile shyly into her scarf.

"Perhaps when all this is over, you may hear it again, mistress." Thorin relented with the gentlest of nods. A heat spread up Bo's neck and into her sunburnt cheeks. She ducked back into her scarf. It was rare to have the attention of the warrior-king, and even more so to see him do anything aside from brood. It wasn't much, but Bo felt like she had accomplished a small miracle. Bofur chuckled at her lightly and tugged at her braid. Bo smacked at his retreating hand and nearly walked right into Dori's back when they came to the bottom of the hillside.

"Here we are." Gandalf sighed and before them was a long and narrow pathway. It stretched out and curved over a bubbling river and the stone itself seemed to sparkle like the water it crossed. Gandalf turned to them and tapped his staff at the mouth of the bridge. "Let us go one by one now. Let us not have a repeat of Bo's doorway." Bo sniggered into her scarf and ducked her eyes when a few of the dwarves shot her a look. Gandalf went first and Thorin followed him. Wider and thicker than elves, the dwarves mindfully toed the edges of the bridge and carefully walked over the river, their eyes flicked to the water below.

Bo was nearly last, but Bifur had stayed with her and waited. She smiled at the silent dwarf and he gently nudged her to start her trek across the bridge. She did so and her eyes danced over the iridescent rocks and laughing water. She smiled down and could see a vague reflection of herself coming up from the river. Bifur kept a hand on the space between her shoulders and she hurriedly reached the end and stepped into a grand entry platform that was surrounded by the looming balconies and brushed by low hanging branches. Bo reached up and the tips of her fingers managed to catch a small wisp of a leaf before the wind raised it and fluttered it away on the bending branch.

She grinned and her plump cheeks tinged with another blush. It felt as if the trees themselves greeted her and the leaves sung lowly. A soft peace came to her soul as memories of the Shire floated through her thoughts. Bo moaned tenderly and found herself at the end of the Company with the dwarves warily glancing around and waiting for their host to appear. Down from the long steps before them came an elf and Bo stilled at the sight of him. The long and glistening hair trailed like a waterfall over the elf's shoulder and his blue eyes echoed with the years behind him. The smile was gentle and his shoulders sloped with ease. Bo caught her mouth drop and quickly snapped it shut.  _Don't be so rude, Bo. Manners._

" _Mithrandir_ , it is good to see you." The Elf greeted the wizard with a gentle bow and folded arm. Gandalf approached the Elf readily and nodded his head in return.

"Lindir! It is good to see you, as well! Tell me, where is Lord Elrond? I must speak with him urgently." Gandalf settled his staff before him and swayed slightly in front of the troupe of dwarves. Bo pursed her lips with humor and she was quite certain that there wasn't enough of the wizard's gray robes to hide all of them, with his magic or not.

"I am afraid that my lord is not here,  _Mithrandir._  He…" Lindir could not finish as a collection of horns sounded from the entrance. The dwarves shuffled nervously and Bo was surprised that she was suddenly maneuvered toward the center of the troupe. Fíli was the closet one to her and his back pressed her against Dori's arm. She stiffened at the close contact and willed her instinctive need to bolt away.  _They are trying to protect you. They will not harm you. They are not Goblins. They do not swarm._  The words repeated in Bo's thoughts and she forced her breathing to slow.  _Do not panic._

It did not help. A clatter of thundering hooves came from behind the Company and the dwarves clustered together like a flock of sheep. Bo was crushed between Dori and Bombour and within a blink of an eye every dwarf held their weapon at the ready. Bo could do nothing as she was trapped between bodies far larger than hers. The horses circled around them and in the setting sun the shadows were flames that flicked menacingly above their heads. Bo shut her eyes tightly as Nori gripped her shoulder and she was jostled from one side to another.

_There was a thunderous clap overhead and the rain splattered viciously. A pair of claws gripped her arm and pinched her flesh tightly. She screamed as hard as her lungs would give or she thought she did. Her throat burned with the taste of mud and iron. A swift blow came to the back of her head but all she could see was the burst of stars in her vision. She was not, much to her dismay, unconscious._

_She wished desperately that she had fallen to the darkness._

"Mistress." Nori's smooth voice cut through her memories and with a swiftness that came from fear, Bo reached out and gripped his wrist. Nori remained still and steady with his arm strong for her to hold. A few shallow breaths later and Bo opened her eyes to see the smirk on the thief's face. She blinked and he grinned with a wiggle of his fingers.

"Is now a good time to interrupt?" He teased her in his thick voice. Bo flushed hotly down through her neck to her shoulders and released him as if burned. He chuckled and for a brief moment the urge to strike him was powerful.

Instead, she slapped his shoulder and he cracked a wider smile and it was infectious. She fought against the smile that touched her lips and shook her head at his antics. He bowed his head to her lightly and Bo became aware that the group around her was moving. She glanced at him in question and Nori sniffed pointed at the elves around them. "They've offered us assistance. Thorin's gone and taken it, so we are being escorted to the guest areas."

"Ah, of course, of course." Bo swallowed and rolled the muscle of her shoulder nervously. The flashing memory just moments before still haunted her thoughts. The thief seemed to sense her anxiety and gracefully slipped his arm under her fingers for her to hold as if he was her chaperone. Bo was grateful for the support and little, slender fingers tightened into his sleeve.

0o0

If they had not been on the edge of their nerves before, they certainly felt the frays of their wits now. The Company was surrounded by the enemy and housed within a home that contained some of the most lackluster building they had yet seen this side of the mountains. To make matters much worse for Dwalin beyond just the reasons mentioned before, was that now he had lost sight of their little mistress.

It was not just that she had disappeared around Bombour and hid in his shadow, but she was completely and utterly missing. As the Company deposited their traveling packs on the floor of the guest room they were given, Dwalin hastily made a head count to make readily sure that he had not just missed her tiny figure.

"Where is she?" Dwalin asked no one in particular. It was Bofur first who looked up from rummaging through his belongings and the others soon followed. Nori sighed and shifted into view beside Dwalin and made the taller dwarf glare at him with a flared nose.

"They took her, the elves." Nori answered. Dwalin could feel the hair on every section of his body rise at the idea of the tiny creature in the hands of  _elves._

"Did you just allow them to  _take_  her?" The old warrior demanded. "What possessed you to think that was a good idea? She could be anywhere now!"

Nori snorted roughly. "The little mistress had dismissed herself, thank you. She's no property of mine to hold and not my responsibility. I thought that had been  _your_  job." The thief gave Dwalin the pointiest of looks with a smirk that dared the warrior to swing. Dwalin nearly did but Dori's hand suddenly appeared on Nori's shoulder and yanked him away.

"She is still a part of this Company! As such, it is our responsibility to defend and protect her should she run afoul. Now, where did they take her?" Dori chastened with a small shake of his brother's shoulder.

It was Ori now who answered, and quietly, "I heard Mistress Bo ask that she be taken to the rooms of healing… I think." The young dwarf curled into his chest when Dori's spitting expression whirled around on him. Ori nodded nervously, "She asked for someone to assist her with her wounds… a-and her fingers."

"Her fingers?" Dwalin interjected. "I had not realized she hurt them in the skirmish with the trolls."

"She had no injuries on her fingers," Óin came in from afar and seated against the railing that guarded the balcony of their room. "I believe she suffers from stiffness in her joints due to the old injury."

"And could you not help her with such a thing?" Dwalin growled. The rest of the Company had gone silent around them with even the young princes minding their tongues with the voices that sparred before them. Thorin quietly removed his traveling coat and shook out his shoulders without a single word or look toward his companions.

Óin politely snorted and scratched at his beard. "I could, but I cannot do that which is not asked of me. I can push and poke and shove you lot around without a word in punishment." Another snort and the old medic brought a hand down roughly on his knee and flicked his fingers at the others. "But that creature is smaller, with brittle bones, milk for skin and is  _female_. She may not swing as our women do, but I am not going to be the first to have her strike me."

"She can barely swing a sword at all." Thorin interjected with a heavy voice. He crossed his arms and turned to his companions with a shake of his head. "We saw how she struggled with the weight of battle. She is a burden that will cost us more in the end than what she is worth."

"Hold, Thorin." Balin appeared from his seat away by the fire. "To be honest and fair, the lass attempted to fend off  _three_  monstrous trolls with  _my_  blade. My sword could weigh what she does when she is soaking wet. It is an achievement that she managed to bring it to bite as she did back then. She has strength, Thorin, even if we cannot always gauge it."

No one would argue that. It had ashamed most of them that the tiniest of their Company had been left to bear the burden of protecting the quest with a sword that matched her in height. Bofur and Bifur could still recall the sickeningly wet thud that had echoed from her place as she landed from being thrown. She had to have died for sure with a pass that powerful and instead she had stood in the shadow of her death.

No, Balin was right, there was much more to the little mistress than she or the wizard was willing to share.

"Balin." Thorin's voice was steady and allowed no argument. "Even if she had the strength of ten dwarves, I shall not risk this anymore. Her trauma haunts her daily and I will not risk the lives of this Company to defend her in her weakness that she should have dealt with long ago."

"That is unfair." Balin quietly bit out. "We cannot judge the nightmares she has suffered or continues to suffer, for there are others here that have never outlived their monsters and yet we bear their burdens." A few of the dwarves around them lowered their heads, Bifur in particular stood with his pipe in hand and shuffled out of the room; his face was pinched tightly with annoyance.

Dwalin sighed as he watched the afflicted dwarf escape and turned back to Thorin. "I do not disagree with you that she should stay in safe company, but even I would not allow such gentle-folk in the hands of the Elves, Thorin."

"We cannot afford to have anyone take her back." Thorin snapped and Dwalin lowered his eyes at the flash of molten steel from his would-be king. Thorin growled low in his throat, "Had I known before that she was female and so excruciatingly miniature  _I would not have allowed her to come._ " The warrior-king's nostrils flared in his tantrum and turned his gaze from Dwalin to Balin. The adviser raised his chin and was unperturbed by Thorin's demeanor.

"What would you have us do, then?" Balin broke into the tension. The princes glanced to Thorin at the advisers words and the others stared at their packs and feet. They all thought the same; it would be best if she had stayed away.

"I will convince the wizard to send her home in safe hands." Thorin answered darkly. "She is not my trouble and I will not be held accountable for her fate after she has left the Company. My decision is final."

Balin and Dwalin could only nod.


	11. To Accept Destiny

It had been about three days since their arrival to Rivendell. Many of them had taken the time to fix their things, clean out their packs and care for their weapons. Bo had found herself in the company of the elves more often than that of the dwarves. It was curious for her simply because when she attempted to approach them, they would flee. Not immediately and never so blatantly as to be rude, but they would only spend a handful of moments with her before being distracted by something else.

Bifur was the only one that kept her company extensively, but even then he was quiet and reserved and merely performed his signing lessons with her. Something was most certainly askew with the Company, but Bo could not corner a single one of them long enough to find out what it was that bothered them. So, she stayed with the elves. They were gracious with her curiosity and most of them wore a look of amused detachment in regards to her presence. Bo had her questions answered and nothing was changed in the lives of the elves who accompanied her.

" _Mithrandir_ was correct in his assumption. Good day to you, Miss Baggins."

Bo pulled her head out of the book in her hands and smiled politely at the Elf before her. This one she recognized as Lindir who was a helping hand to Lord Elrond. She stood from her plush chair and folded the book under her arm with a small bow. The Elf returned the gesture gracefully and a shadow of a smile touched his lips.

"Mister Lindir, it is a pleasure to meet you. May I help you, sir?" Bo could feel her father's sensibilities tickle at the back of her neck in a constant reminder of her manners. For all the Took blood in her veins, there was still plenty of the Baggins blood in her heart to counter it.

Lindir smiled gently and visibly. "I am here on the request of Lord Elrond. He asked that I offer our smithy's services to you, my lady, for your leather armor and sword."

"Oh!" Bo blinked and shook her head. "That is surely a wonderful offer, but I have no coins to pay for such work, my lord."

"These services would not require payment, my lady." Lindir replied with a small sniff. Bo felt her sunburnt cheeks color lightly when she realized she may have offended the Elf unintentionally. Lindir continued regardless, "Lord Elrond merely saw the state of your equipment and surmised that it had been a number of years since they had been repaired. Is that correct?"

"Oh dear." Bo muttered in embarrassment. "Yes, you would be correct. My armor – if we may be generous and call it such – has been sitting in my closet for a handful of years before this venture. I had no time to assess its condition before we left."

"Then perhaps my lady would be so kind as to allow us this small gift?" Lindir asked gently with a hand held out to her. Bo blinked once more and glanced between the hand in front of her and the face of the Elf. She swallowed and felt heat collect behind her pointed ears. She bowed.

"I would be grateful for any assistance you may offer. I thank you and your lord for the generosity." Bo hurried to leave her book on the table next to her chair and hustled toward the corner where she had left her things. The room they had given her was small and quaint, much like her home back in The Shire, and so her feet were swift to retrieve her things.

She winced at the sight of her leather and tucked it to her chest as Lindir came up behind her to take her armor. Bo sighed softly and turned to the Elf, her lips puckered with her shame. She held the leather out to the Elf and his steady fingers prodded at the material. A slender frown turned his mouth and his brow furrowed over his ageless eyes.

"My lady…" Lindir began.

Bo held up her hands. "I am quite aware, Mister Lindir. They are in poor condition. They were not so before the trolls had captured me, I assure you."

"Trolls!" Lindir said with quiet wonder. "I see. Then perhaps mending them would not be sufficient."

This saddened the little hobbit and she nodded. "I understand. It would be a bit much to think they could be mended so readily."

"Nonsense!" Lindir huffed and folded the leather over his arm. Bo was surprised by his small burst and it was a moment before an amused smile tickled her lips and she hid the expression behind her tiny hand. Gandalf had been right. For all the years the Elves may have lived or were to live in their timeless nature, they still had moments that were uniquely child-like.

"You shall come with me, my lady." Lindir bowed his head lightly to her. "We will have you fitted for a new set of armor and see to it that its quality will stand the test of trolls and the other obstacles of adventuring."

"A new one!" Bo exclaimed with puffed cheeks. "Good gracious, you needn't go through so much trouble, Mister Lindir! I would not have the space for a spare set and I could not ask your smith to rush in case we are to leave suddenly. It would be very rude, indeed!"

Lindir's laugh was the ring of a bell. "Be at peace, Miss Baggins. Your… Company has made plans to stay at least another week. We shall have everything finished by then, I assure you. It will be no trouble and shall benefit you more in the future. Shall we?" The Elf held out a smooth hand to her and Bo bit the inside of her lips before her own calloused hand settled into his palm.

"Lead on, my good sir!"

0o0

The stress she felt at being fitted for a new set of leather armor was nothing in comparison to the stress of meeting the Elves for dinner. The Company had kept tightly together and ate their meals in their guest room together to avoid their hosts, but now such a thing was impossible. Lord Elrond had asked for a dinner in honor of all his new guests and Gandalf. It all looked to be an elaborate affair and Bo fretted over the state of her clothes. The Elves had found a solution to her situation.

They had stuck her into a dress.

Bo shifted with an itch along her back as she waited in the hallway before the dining area. The dress was comfortable and smooth with a fabric and weave she could only assume was a trademark of the Elves and their work. The dress was plain and comfortingly simple with its fabric an earthy hue of brown and green. The sleeves were close to her skin and ended at her elbow and though the skirt had been tucked in hurriedly, it ended just below her knees.

Bo wondered if there had been other Hobbits that visited Rivendell before her; for why else would they have such an article of clothing? The dress was pleasant and if not for her scarred face and twisted hand, Bo would have fancied herself quite ready for a party much like the ones back at home. Neither of those things could be ignored, though, and so she fidgeted as she waited.

Bofur was the first to appear and Bo felt relieved to see that the dwarf had not made any ornate changes to his attire.  _Why would he? They have no need to impress the Elves._  She gave him a ready smile at his approach and the dwarf paused before her. He blinked and then bent at his waist shortly with his hat quickly removed.

"Little Mistress!" He greeted with his hat returned to his head. "You look a lovely sight, that you do. Where did you manage to find a dress? Did you hide it in your things?"

Bo snorted lightly. "I would do no such thing, Master Bofur. We are on an adventure and such a frivolous thing would be embarrassing to bring. Frankly, I only have two dresses and neither could be as beautiful as this one. It's a shame they had given it to me."

"Now, I wouldn't say that so quickly, little mistress." Bofur gave her a smile that lit his face and he held out his arm to her. "Why, if you only had a beard to match the color of your dress and you would have the rest of us at your feet! It is no lie that I speak, mark my words!" He placed a hand over his chest where his heart was and sighed wistfully with a wink in her direction.

"Hush with your teasing, Master Bofur!" Bo scolded with a laugh and reached up to tug at his hat. "It seems it was all for naught, then. I shall ever be bereft of your affections."

Bofur stumbled. "Say what, now? What do you mean?"

"Oh, Master Bofur!" Bo laughed freely at his wide-eyed expression. "Hobbits only grow hair on their heads and their feet. We have hair nowhere else upon our persons – not that I would let you check!" She quickly added when a horrified look took his face and his eyes glanced down the length of her body.

"Oh, that's a shame, Mistress." Bofur shook his head dramatically, but broke out into a merry laugh as she slapped his arm. "It shouldn't be a worry for you in any case, my lady; your visage is quite pleasant."

"Quite." Bo deadpanned.

"It is the truth! Scars are lovely and nothing to be ashamed of, ask anyone! Well, not anyone. Actually, I do believe most in the Company wouldn't answer you, but I know for certain they would say the same!" Bofur rambled happily as he dragged her along by the grip she had on his arm. She snorted with amusement and followed without complaint.

The rest of the Company appeared with them at the entrance to the dining area and filed in like cattle. Thorin was led up to a table where Gandalf and Elrond stood awaiting him and both bowed their heads politely to the would-be king. The rest of the dwarves were seated along tables that stretched across the floor and were beautifully decorated.

"Papa would be amazed." Bo muttered quietly to no one as the shining plates and polished candle holders were perfectly arranged. Long cloths covered the tables and the cushions they were given to use as seating were soft and full. Nearly all of the dwarves around her shifted uneasily and looked entirely out of place among all the finery.

Balin was to her right and Fíli to her left. She was rarely so smothered by them that an odd sort of discomfort took place in her belly from the collection of their heat between their bodies. Balin keep his head held high and always a constant watch on his fellows as the elves drifted around them. Fíli was not quite so attentive to the action as his gaze flickered to his brother on the other side of the dining area. Separated they were and perhaps not by choice.  _Thorin's doing, I'm sure,_  Bo thought with amusement,  _though he cares little for the impression of the elves, he doesn't seek to embarrass himself and his Company either. Smart dwarf._

Dinner was brought out to them promptly. There were large bowls of leafy greens and sturdy vegetables and Bo nearly came to laughter at some of the perturbed looks the dwarves shared with each other. She, happily, served herself a small portion of the salads and bread. The others reluctantly took their shares as well, but none were so eager to devour their food as Bo was, for she had only eaten soups and meats through the journey.

Nothing cruel could be said about a good cabbage, her father would say.

She ate in silence as the Company muttered around her. Fíli tossed a glance her way as she chewed through a piece of carrot and she smiled. The smallest of grins took his lips and he shook his head at her. Her smile turned bright and his grin turned toothy. She glanced along the table toward Elrond and Gandalf and was not unsurprised to see a mighty storm build in the hunch of Thorin's shoulders and the twist of his nose.

"He is not always as such." Balin interrupted her staring. "Usually, Thorin makes for an excellent diplomat."

"Truly?" Bo murmured around her cup of water. "One could not tell through his ire."

Balin chuckled. "Elves leave something of a foul taste after our dealings with them."

"Surely not all give you reason to be sour." Bo replied sadly. "If I recall my mother's story correctly, it was the elves of Mirkwood, not Rivendell, who had forsaken you."

"Oh, aye, then your mother knew the story as well as any." He said with a nod of his head. "But it is in their nature to seek that which is best for their kin, regardless of the futures of those around them."

Bo paused and the words felt thick on her tongue. It was a moment more before she could bring herself to say them. "Then… could not the same be said for the dwarves? Or any race, then?"

"I suppose that may be so," Balin answered tightly. "One cannot seek an apology without first admitting the faults they carry as well."

"My mother used to tell me that I should be gracious with the company I keep." Bo soothed the old advisor as she realized too late that her tongue had won her no favors. "Bo Billa, she used to say, you must always be conscious of the annoyances and frustrations you have with others."

"Oh?" Balin questioned with a raised, white brow. "And why should you be? Did we not just discuss such things as folly?"

Bo shook her head. "It is because I must realize that those frustrations I have with others, they may also have with me."

It was a while before Balin responded, his heavy brow came over his eyes and his gaze grew deep through her. A shrill squeak echoed in her thoughts and for a heartbeat she almost drew her eyes away. Balin's smile stilled her fear and he chuckled low in his throat.

"Hobbits," he muttered into his plate, "I suppose the wizard was right."

Not a word left him for the rest of the evening.

0o0

There was a charge in the room that night and every dwarf could feel it under his skin. The dinner had turned into a raunchy display of humor and merriment, but the feeling did not persist into the night. Thorin and Dwalin had kept to the corner of their large communal room with the others and not a word passed between them for a long stretch of time.

Dwalin broke the silence as his brother approached from the fire the Company had started in the middle of their room. His eyes went to his king and his voice was low with disagreement. "She will not go quietly, Thorin. She has a bite to her that I feel we have not yet judged adequately."

"Even if she proves to be a decent fighter, she is not long for this Company." Thorin growled. Balin took a sit with a quiet sigh next to Dwalin and Thorin shook his head. "She is a female, Dwalin. It is the very reason you had agreed with me when Dís had demanded she come."

"Aye, but that was different." Dwalin countered as Thorin huffed. "Your sister is a  _dwarrodam_ , and that is not something any of our kind would willing or easily risk for the sake of a dream."

"Then you mean to say we should risk the life of another race's female?" Balin entered the argument with his voice clear and steady. "Should we, then, renounce our contract for Bo Billa Baggins, last of her name and line, on a whim?"

"This is not a whim." Thorin gripped the armrest of his chair. "That contract was void the moment we knew she was not as Gandalf had promised."

"But he did not, in fact, promise us a male."

"Balin."

"Do not counter me so, my king." Balin narrowed his eyes on Thorin as one would an arguing child. "The wizard is as cunning in his speech as we are in our wording of contracts. Yes, I had the contract written under the  _assumption_  that Bo Baggins was a male, with the appropriate prefixes and pronouns, but that does not mean that the wizard had wished it so."

"He means to cause trouble, he always has." Thorin finally replied into the quiet night. "I do not know what he thinks or what consequences he assumes to acquire with Miss Baggins in our Company, but I fear that it bodes ill and our favors will be for naught."

"Thorin," Dwalin sighed, "I would be the first of any here to side with you, for I know your judgment and you do not rule lightly. You cannot ignore that she has already earned a chance. She stood before three monstrous trolls and wielded Balin's sword – and for what? What hope did she have that she would be saved? Or that she could save herself?" Thorin exhaled angrily and turned his gaze over the balcony. The Company just beyond them and further into the room slowly started to grow silent as the three of them argued amongst each other.

"As much as I would like to agree with you, Thorin, Dwalin has a point." Balin said with a hand on his beard. "She has proven that she can, even in terror, fight. She has signed her contract with the knowledge that she most likely faces only her death."

"She does not know what she faces." Thorin interjected heatedly. "We here truly understand the might and power of the nightmare named Smaug. She knows nothing of fear."

Dwalin hesitated, but then pinned Thorin with a look. "The boys know nothing of this danger, either." In that moment, Dwalin knew he had said too much. His king reared up in his seat with steel that laced his back and his eyes turned to ice.

"Dwalin has only stated the obvious." Balin quickly smothered the fire that boiled through Thorin. "Fíli, Kíli and Ori have only the stories to know of their quest and its dangers. Now again, we return to the beginning, as the only difference between them and Bo is their gender."

"And kin." Dwalin interposed with a sour look. Balin acquiesced with a small nod. Thorin shifted in his chair with a jerk of his back and his mouth moved to argue, but the quiet moan of the entrance door stopped him. Immediately his eyes flashed over his Company and every head was present.

All, except for one.

She entered the room with silent steps and the firelight caught the shadows of a new dress placed upon her person. Dwalin had made a joke previously that the Elves had left them in peace only due to the fact that Bo Billa had been a living doll to play for their amusement. He had not been wrong. The little mistress still bore her braid along her shoulder and the fire did nothing to soften the scars along her face or the twisted nature of her hand, but her smile was ever the same.

Now all three wizened warriors felt their words gurgle at the bottom of their throats. She drew near to the Company around the fire and Kíli greeted her warmily with Fíli's smile not far behind that. Bifur gestured to her and as she neared he reached out and tugged at the hem of her short dress. Her laughter rung out and she snatched away her skirts with a quick slap to his fingers. The Company erupted as Bifur shook his hand and held his fingers playfully.

Balin and Dwalin shot Thorin with a look. The warrior king frowned, but he would not be swayed so easily. Regardless of the words he had said to the wizard, he would now make utterly sure that he would not be responsible for her untimely end. Even if she had proven a little of her worth to the king, he had seen what the wizard had murmured to him before the start of this quest.

_Hobbits are remarkable creatures,_  Tharkûn had argued with his annoyance,  _they are a rare thing to find and you may spend all your years with them and never tire of their light. The world is lesser for their end then all the gold you shall ever spend._

Thorin could not wholly believe that a singular creature could mean more than the rescue of his home, but he had glimpsed it. There, in her tiny frame, in the snarl of her lips as the trolls turned on her, and in the blind determination that she had to survive the encounter.

He had seen it, the potential value of her spirit, and he would not be the one to lead it to death.

Resolved and absolute, Thorin lifted his head and called out to her. The little creature popped her head up from where she sat amongst the Company and hesitated. He growled her name a second time, annoyed at her disobedience. With a nudge up from Bofur, the little mistress stood and made a trot to the quiet corner of council.

"Yes, Master Oakenshield?" She bowed her head lightly with the shortest tip of her chin to her chest. Her blue eyes flickered between Balin and Dwalin. The brothers met her gaze with polite nods and her shoulders eased down from around her ears. Thorin felt his jaw stiffen at the sight.

"I have discussed it with my companions here," he gestured to the brothers at his side, "and I have come to decide that your presence in our Company is no longer needed." Balin winced at his wording and Dwalin cleared his throat. It did not matter, for as far as Thorin was concerned, the deed was finished. The blank look on the little mistress's face was to be expected, but then slowly, Thorin realized a shift in her gaze.

Her blue eyes, once sapphires, now cracked like a mountainside with rage.

"You  _what?_ " Bo growled demandingly. "You've  _decided_? How quaint! And tell me, then, when I was to be savvy to this decision making?"

"You have no right," Thorin began, but the little mistress flared like a flame. Her hands fisted at her sides and her shoulders shuddered with her ire. Balin artfully shifted his legs to turn away from her heat and Dwalin coughed into his arm to hide a smirk.  _Traitors_ , was all Thorin could think.

"No  _right_?" She snapped. "I have  _every_  right, Thorin Oakenshield! I signed your bloody contract; I risked my life for your Company who, might I remind you, ran headfirst into combat with  _trolls_!"

"Oy!" Three of the Company called from behind her. She snapped a glare over her shoulder and their protests were silenced. Thorin sneered and stood from his chair. He would not be cowed by the tiniest of creatures before him. He stepped forward, but the little mistress made no move to step away.

Her chin turned tight down into her neck and her eyes narrowed under her brow at him.

Thorin blinked and hesitated, surprised at her expression. She took his moment of weakness.

"You have no right to undermine my commitments." She challenged with heat throughout her cheeks. " _I_  signed that contract and I made the commitment to see it through until the end, whether we've achieved this mad venture or death has taken me."

"You need not be so dramatic." Thorin tried to interrupt, but she raised a finger at him.

"So says the king who feels it is common place to challenge a dragon!" She snapped. Her shoulders flared around her ears and the corner of her scarred mouth snagged on her words. "How dare you make such a decision without discussing it with me first? Should I not decide my own fate and where it shall make its end?"

Thorin could feel his hackles rise at her insubordination and he glowered down his nose at the lass. "I am the leader of the Company, last I recall, and  _king_. I decide who belongs and who goes, I decide our path and I shall not be burdened by your stubborn rebelliousness." He would not raise his voice at her; he would not allow this unruly pup to gnaw at his boots.

" _You are not my king._ " Bo replied darkly with her gaze flashing. "As far as I'm concerned, until you have retrieved your mountain, we are equals."

"How – " Thorin growled, but there was a tilt in Bo's shoulders and for the briefest second, Thorin believed she would strike him. The turn of her mouth betrayed it and her hands were fisted from before, but she paused. Her eyes closed and the storm behind them silenced. She exhaled. Her shoulders came away from her jaw and her scars loosened their grip on her face.

She blinked up at him and there was only sorrow.

"Lass?" Balin called to her in bewilderment.

"I am no less than you are." Bo answered as she ignored Balin. Her voice did not tremble as her lip did, and though Thorin thought he could see the tears collect at the corner of her eyes, she did not shed any. She shook her head and sighed. "The Dúnedain thought much the same as you. I am small and appear fragile and so thus all should look upon me and defend me." She scoffed and brought her gnarled hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Though I have lost no mountain and no kingdom, I have lost." She continued. Her hand left her face and her gaze remained at his feet. "I have seen loved ones fall to the blade and watched as my parents wasted away, one after the other. I have known death, violent and peaceful, and I have known loneliness."

Balin stood and placed his hand on her slender shoulder. She did not shrug him away and instead her gaze came up and she gave him a warm smile. The sight pulled at Thorin and he felt shame for treating her as he would his adolescent nephews. She was no child, but fully grown and weary.

_We are equals,_  she had said to him. He could find a bit of understanding in that.

"You cannot follow." He spoke gently, but allowed no argument. "I spoke hastily when I said that you were no longer needed." She looked to him with sadness and he bowed his head ever so slightly to her in apology. "There is much left in this world and you have the spirit to find those treasures. I shall not be the one to lead you into hopelessness."

"Do you believe your cause to be hopeless, then?" She replied softly. "Is this nothing more than a fool's last effort at glory?" He felt a small rile at her words, but shook his head and controlled his tongue.

"I do not believe our goal to be an unobtainable one." Thorin relented. "But I see in you a light that should not be snuffed before its time. You throw yourself into these dangers and I do not know you as I know my kin. I cannot predict your moves, and so thus I cannot defend you… even from yourself."

"I… do not understand." Finally, the ire and sorrow that had taken her face melted away into confusion, her hands dropped by her hips and her fingers released their hold.

Thorin offered her what little smile he could manage. "I have seen death, like you, and have felt the weight of failure. I have a name, a family, and kin to give me strength to continue." He hesitated again and lowered his voice with a sigh. "But you, little mistress, look only for the end. I will not grant you that opportunity."

A shudder ran through her little body and Thorin could see the fear that had plagued her when she awoke from her nightly terrors. He would not allow a spirit to find its way to death without cause and if this was the only way to prevent it and the downfall of his Company, then it would be so.

Bo Baggins inhaled tightly and nodded her head. She slipped away from Balin's hand and quietly stepped toward the entrance. None of his Company called out to her and none could watch as she made her exit. Thorin watched as the door closed behind her and was oddly proud that he caught a glimpse of her back as she forced it to straighten.

She would find her path and his conscious would be clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to shoot myself, this took so long to write...


	12. Ownership

_The nerve of that dwarf!_  Her mind was ablaze in righteous fury at Thorin Oakenshield's dismissal. What made him think even for a moment that he had such a say over her future and the commitments she made to all those around her? In truth, she had come willingly, but to be suddenly abandoned in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces and told to make due? She stormed away from their room and into the darkened world of Rivendell, the architecture over her head a mournful cover of shadows and twilight.

The absolute  _nerve_  of that beast.

She paid no heed to where she wandered in the darkness. Occasionally she would spot a slender frame and smoky limbs that disappeared into the starlight, but the elves had their business and would not bother her in her fuming. Soon the shadows gave way to moonlight and stars and the gentle shapes of the clouds that passed overhead. She paused in her stomping and looked up into the sky. The stars glittered happily and winked at her with no care beyond their bright light.

If only she could find such a peace now, the poor hobbit lass lamented. She sighed heavily and found a short bench near to her. She slumped into the seat and her fingers, both straight and gnarled, brushed up her face and twisted into her curly hair. She tugged at her roots and bit the bottom corner of her lip. She would not cry, not over this, not over them, and certainly not over that soulless king-should-not-be Thorin Oakenshield.

With another sigh and a quiet clench of her jaw, she raised her head and peered back into the sky. Just beyond where she sat, she could see light gathered closely together and with another blink or two, she could see shadows pace within the lights. Tall and elegant figures, but she could recognized the vague and frayed silhouette that was Gandalf and his Grey robes. Curious as to why Gandalf and perhaps, if she guessed correctly, Lord Elrond would have a meeting so late into the night, Bo Billa stood and quietly made her way toward the protruding terrace.

As she drew closer to the lit area, she wondered why her keen ears could hear nothing. No mutterings, no conversations, and no words. She drew as close as she could dare her little heart to do so and stood with her chest pressed tightly to a pillar not far from the shadows of the gathering. Indeed, she had guessed right, and there stood Lord Elrond and Gandalf, but there was another and her fair light seized whatever strength Bo had within her lungs. The lady elf was turned ever so slightly toward Gandalf, her eyes closed or cast down and her hands folded before her hips. She stood as a statue and only the breeze moved the very ends of her golden hair.

Bo swallowed thickly and held a hand to her mouth. She had never seen a more beautiful creature in all her short life and she felt as though the sight of her now, stolen in the moon's light, was a crime. Bo turned her gaze away and nearly stumbled as she twisted her ankles to escape before she was noticed.

' _Do not run._ '

A grip of chilled fingers took a hold of her bones within her neck and held her. She knew there was no hand there to still her, but she could not beg her feet to move or her legs to run. Frozen as stone, Bo shuddered within her skin and glanced around her. There was no one close enough to call out to her, to command her obedience. Who, then…?

' _Be still and calm. I bring you no ill-will, little creature. Turn around.'_

So she did and slowly lest her fear take the best of her yet. Still, there was no one closer, but when she turned and faced the terrace once more, her little gaze found the gleaming eyes of the lady in white. The smallest and gentlest of smiles graced the she-elf's face and Bo's stomach and lungs melted away in surprise. Bo could only venture and hope that her sanity had not slipped,  _did you…?_

The lady in white only smiled wider. ' _Do not be frightened. I hold an array of many gifts that any would falter at the knowledge of, and that you stand so steady is a virtue.'_

_Not truly, my lady._  Bo had to bite her lip to keep from answering aloud in the off chance that Gandalf and Elrond would hear her.  _This power you wield has struck me dumb, I fear I will give you no conversation that would be memorable._  The she-elf turned her chin so slightly toward Gandalf that Bo must have imagined it and soon the lady in white paced around the table and her low voice hummed over the din of the night.

Yet she continued to speak within Bo's mind, as if it was hers to command,  _'Memory never fades for my kind, though we do not possess such an insatiable curiosity as yours.'_  Lord Elrond spoke now, and held his gaze with Gandalf as the wizard slumped over the table and held his hands together. Though Bo could not hear the words, his tone floated along the wind in frustration. Something was amiss.

_Curiosity, my lady?_ Bo whispered into her mind, her thoughts felt scattered to the corners of her conscious and she held onto them with only her fingertips. The icy fingers that had taken her spine faded from thought and Bo took a few cautious steps back to the pillar she had shadowed. Gandalf's hands waved in the air and Lord Elrond lowered his head as the conversation probably turned sour.

' _So far from home with a company of dwarves that could not abandon you and yet wish for you to come no further.'_

Immediately the ire that she had relinquished in favor of her curious nature had roared back and punched her soundly at the back of her throat and caused her to choke on an exhale. Bo's face pinched at the bridge of her nose and her scar slithered over the left side of her face as if it meant to bite any before it. Bo huffed and turned her back to the pillar and slide down to the ground as her tantrum returned.

_They wish for me to leave. Master Oakenshield sees me as nothing more than a burden._  Bo wasn't quite sure she was capable of spitting her words through her thoughts, but she hoped the venom was there. Her shoulders hunched and she scowled at ground by her bent knees.  _I am no warrior and a female. Here I lay abandoned by the whims of a king with a broken kingdom. I suppose he requires_ something _to command._

' _That is unkind._ ' The words were quiet and neutral as they entered Bo's mind. Shame took the place of her anger and she lowered her head as her knees came up to her face. ' _They only mean to protect you and they believe they cannot while you are with them.'_

"I can fight." Bo muttered into her knees tearfully. "I can stand on my own, I need no one to hold my hand."

' _Perhaps you can. It is not that death shall find you that makes them fearful. It is that you look for death when there is only safety.'_  Bo blinked at the she-elf's words and gently shifted to glance around the pillar to the terrace. The lady in white now had her back to Bo and Lord Elrond stood from the table between him and the wizard. There was a silence that weighed heavily in the air and Bo choked on it.

_I don't want to die._  Bo urged through her thoughts and believed it.  _Why ever would they think that?_

' _Here is a young thing of tiny frame who sets out on an adventure of certain death… and blinks not an eye or cries a tear at her fate. She has resigned herself to the end, without giving herself a chance to change the future. You have succumbed to death with all the fight of a corpse long since buried.'_

Bo blinked and pressed her back to the pillar and felt the cold stone bite at her back through her dress. Her arms were wrapped loosely around her bent legs and as the breeze came past her, the trails of her tears down her cheeks could be felt as they dried. Bo's lip trembled and she held onto her knees tighter. The heart within her chest ached and her lungs twisted around it in a desperate attempt to keep it from stuttering.

_I didn't mean to give up,_  Bo cried quietly into her arms.  _I don't know where else to go or what to do. I have been ostracized by my kin for my battle scars and my nightmares. I cannot drink away my memories, for the person I am unhindered fears all the shadows that surround her. I cannot keep good company for I am seen as strange and ungainly… Am I wrong to have felt more at home with these dwarves than I ever have with my kind?_

Gandalf's voice echoed through the rising light of the budding sun and his irritation was near palpable. A new voice entered the terrace and Bo stiffened in her bones at the deep rumbling of the unknown visitor. There was a moment of pause and the world around her seemed to slow. Bo shuffled her rear and her legs shifted her around the pillar to spy into the gathering.

The lady in white stood with her front to Bo and her beautiful face was grim with a dull ache. Ashamed and weakly shaking, Bo lowered her gaze away from the lady who shone with starlight from within. Bo brought her legs from under her and did her best to stand quietly. The newcomer was deadly silent after his introduction and Bo feared she would truly be found. The lady's echoing words came to her steadily as Bo moved to leave.

' _A home is not made by any wood or stone or skilled hand that any in this world possess. You have found the warmth of a hearth you have not felt since the death of your parents in the rowdy crowd of Oakenshield's Company. Perhaps you may make this adventure a victory if you may show them home is only where the heart lies.'_

_I don't know how to accomplish that_ , Bo answered mournfully,  _how can I show them what a home is when mine lies alone and empty so far away. I could not make a home from that, and I lost no kingdom._

' _Do not lose your heart to despair. You have a chance and so you must take it with the belief that you will see the future's sunrise.'_  The lady's words now faded as the sunlight came along through the seams of the world's edge. Now an urgency fluttered through her mind,  _'Now go and keep them going. The council here means to stop them, as do I. Let there be a chance. Gandalf means to meet them on the mountain pass if they should escape.'_

_But,_  Bo meant to protest and she turned to do so. The chill returned to her neck and she felt an insistent push behind her heart.

' _Run._ '

And so she flew.

The light was fluttering as dawn approached and the twilight faded into memory. Bo's feet pattered against the decorated stone of the ground as she ran and skipped her way to her bedroom. She was only in there moments and snatched her bag as quickly as she could before she bolted out once more. It was not nearly a week yet that the Company had been in Rivendell, but she would heed the she-elf's warning.  _A chance_ , Bo could empathize with at least having a chance at a life that once had only been a dream.

She would own that dream, and if she did find her death for it, she would fight until the last. A new and itching fire burned just under her stomach as she ran through the halls toward the room that housed the dwarves. She would not let them be hindered on their quest when the path had barely been explored. She would give them a chance, even if it meant she was left behind (though she would not give Thorin Oakenshield the satisfaction of knowing it was  _his_  doing, that blundering idiot).

She crashed into the room just as the dwarves appeared to be settling for bed. For a split moment of a heart's beat, Bo felt indignation take her present state of mind.  _Oh of all things, going to bed at this hour…!_  But quickly her mind was snapped to the present as Nori sat up on his bedroll and one intricate eyebrow was raised questioningly.

"Little Mistress?" He called and she could see that the rest of the Company had rubbed the sleep from their eyes and looked to her curiously. Dwalin stood from his bed nearer to the railing and took a step toward her. The movement of his lumbering form startled her and her mouth worked out the words before her mind could set them right.

"They mean to stop you!" She blurted. The Company before her went rigid and Dwalin frowned as Thorin stood from his chair and the pipe in his hand was set aside. She gasped when she spoke again, "Gandalf is to meet us on the mountain pass if we should leave, and leave we must, or we will be found before the sun has completely risen!"

"Get your things, we move now." Thorin commanded angrily into the silence of the room. Soon the Company scrambled to acquire their things and Bo was thrown into the fray of helping them. She brought Bombur his knapsack of cooking utensils, Dori soon had his cloak and gloves, she quickly brought Ori's hood over his head, and even Bofur was wrangled into her hands as she took his scarf from the railing and wrapped it around his neck. The dwarf batted her hands away with a sleepy murmur of 'I can do it myself, lass' and she only slapped his hands away and straightened his hat.

"You are not to come with us," Thorin came up behind her and Bo felt her hackles jump so badly that she nearly leapt over the railing she stood beside. With a heavy snort, Bo took her bag from beside her feet and swung it over her shoulder (having missed a hit on Thorin's mountainous forehead only because he dodged, the cheat) and cracked her gnarled fingers.

"You have no say in the matter anymore." Bo countered. Thorin moved to her right side and she danced with him as she stepped back and leveled him with a glare and a jut of her slender chin. "Take my contract and rip it right here in front of me. Release me from my burden. I did not believe dwarves to be so careless in their promises and their obligations."

Thorin growled and his eyes glowered to match her gaze. "Do not speak so foolishly of the people you know nothing of, Halfling."

"Then  _teach_ me," Bo hissed, "and show me this grand nature of your people. Do not make them seem foolhardy and fickle in their dealings. Lead me on, Master Oakenshield, and should I falter know in your heart it is no fault of your own."

"You," He began, but Dwalin's heavy hand came down on his shoulder and cut him off. The dwarves shared a look and with a nod from Dwalin, Thorin exhaled roughly and shot her one last heated look before moving to lead at the front of the Company in their escape. Dwalin brought his dark eyes to her and the bravery that she had felt before wilted at his gaze.

"You test waters that run far deeper than you suspect." The older dwarf murmured to her gently. There was no anger, she didn't think, but there was caution. Bo swallowed and nodded her head.

"I know, and I can't swim. Fancy that?"

Dwalin rolled his eyes and snagged her shoulder to drag her along behind him.

0o0

They had escaped Rivendell successfully and in broad daylight. She had thought the elves would be keen enough to spot a company of fourteen robust dwarves making their merry way out to the mountainside, but no such thing had come to happen. It had perplexed Bo as she trudged behind Bofur and had Nori as a battering ram behind her. She was sluggish in her hike up the mountains and she knew she was slowing them down. After a fourth or fifth shove from Nori to keep up, she turned on him.

The smirk on his face did nothing to appease her and she said as much, "Would you be as kind as to stop being a nag. Wipe that smirk off your face; I don't know what you are so happy about."

"You've been nothing but a storm cloud the last few hours since we left the homestead. I figured at some point you would have to either speak to me, or slap me." His expressive eyebrows wiggled at her and his smirk widened under his beard. "I am more than welcomed to either."

Bo blinked and as the heat flushed up into her neck she immediately tucked her hands into her coat pockets. Nori grinned brightly at her and tapped her chin before he shoved at her shoulder and forced her to move onward. The heat crawled up into her face and she scrunched her nose.  _Damn, bloody dwarves. Curse the lot of them._

"You could have just started a conversation." Bo grumbled and rustled into her scarf around her neck.

"Oh, and be a polite gent with the small talk? I would have to steal twice as much to blacken that part of my soul once more." Nori replied in a beat. Bo gave him an exasperated sigh and refused to give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. Instead she reached out and squarely punched him at his shoulder with what strength she could muster. She tittered on her feet from the hit as Nori continued his pace, unperturbed by her action.

"Nori." Bo said to him. She waited until he had his gaze on her. "You are an ass."

It was Nori's turn to blink and slowly a new grin took his lips and he swung an arm around her shoulders and she stumbled into his side. "Ah, lass! We'll make something of you, yet, just you watch." Bo wiggled out from his hold and shoved at his ribs, but the dwarf was in too much of an amused mood to fight it.

"What's going on back there?" Bofur called from ahead.

"Bo Baggins has decided to take a chance at flirting." Nori called back. A wave of painful heat smothered Bo's face as no less than eight heads immediately turned back to them. Nori walked beside her and was unrepentant in the incident he was about to cause.

"She what, now?" Bofur snorted and his voice echoed as they trekked down the ledge and the mountain pass now yawned into a valley. "Well, if she's to start with anyone, I suppose the lowest of us should do."

"Oy!"

Bo hurried on ahead and fluttered between the other dwarves until she came into Dwalin's shadow. The warrior gave her a glance and she clicked her teeth at him. A chuckle rumbled up his chest and he shook his head, but slowed his pace so that he would walk behind her and be a separator.

_Curse every dwarf but Dwalin._

The journey through the valleys and mountain trails was grueling and unforgiving. Though Balin led the way for the Company, Thorin set the pace, and he was an unrelenting force at their march. For the first day or so, Bo honestly believed he had set the pace out of spite for her. The other dwarves struggled very little to climb over the ledges and boulders and managed to keep a steady whistling tune or song between them during their travels.

Bo barely had the energy to keep her knees from knocking together, lest of all attempt to keep in time to their singing. The dwarves had also acquired the habit of passing her around from one keeper to another and it disturbed her. The first days it had been Nori and his brothers, though only Ori spoke to her regularly. He told her of his drawings and his scribe work and occasionally would pause with her to pick flowers or a plant to press into his book.

Dori kept a watchful eye on both of them, but his gaze strayed more to her than Ori. She was not entirely sure he trusted her to be careful with Ori, but she minded her words and did her best to keep Dori's feathers from ruffling. Nori had no such qualms about upsetting her and had taken to flirting her. It had only changed from a flirtatious game to a challenging one when she turned and tripped him with her big feet.

The game was on, then, and she didn't know it; though she  _did_  notice that some of things would go missing on different days. Odd.

When they made their camp for the nights after their tedious hiking, she found herself in the company of the Urs, pressed between Bifur and Bofur. She had forgotten about Bifur's lessons and the dwarf had given her a healthy piece of his mind by telling her off with a rough gesture of his hand.

Bofur still refuses to explain what it meant. Sheepishly, she returned to her teachings and slowly Bifur came around to forgive her for the transgression. It had taken a few new words, a sweetly sung lullaby her mother had whispered her to sleep with and the gentle hand gestures to go along with it. The dwarf was a hard soul to mollify, but when Bofur began to take her lullaby and change it for his own, Bifur wasn't far behind to join him.

She never felt as if she could relax around them; not after her argument with Thorin. The energy around them was stiff and unwanted. The princes remained by Thorin's side and it wasn't until a sleepless night four days into the journey from Rivendell that she knew why.

"They mean to keep you safe." Dwalin explained after he caught another low and pained glance from her toward the royal family. "The boys know you meant no harm, but they also know their uncle isn't to be ignored."

"So, what?" Bo asked gently. "Are they my defenders?"

Dwalin shrugged as he polished his axe over his lap. "Of sorts. Thorin would never strike you simply for speaking your mind, but he is a bit of a brute when it comes to being vindictive."

"Dwalin, I hope you realize how astounding that sounds coming from  _you._ " Bo smiled teasingly at the taller dwarf and then laughed as Dwalin shifted in his seat and cast his eyes back down to his weapon. "You look the very case of vindictiveness, my friend."

"I would think you of all people would know that looks aren't always the best indication of someone's nature." Dwalin countered steadily. His hands moved over his weapon with ease and care, but Bo could sense the bite that his words struck her with and she bowed her head.

"I deserved that one, no doubt." Bo sighed. "I am sorry, Master Dwalin, it was not my intent to –"

"And that's the problem, lassie. You look to do right in something, and the intent is different from the conclusion you find." It was definitely a bit this time and Bo reeled back from the snap of his ire. There was a lengthy stillness between them as the camp murmured happily not too far away from their bedrolls.

"What have I done to anger you, Master Dwalin?" Bo asked with her fingers curled around the edge of her coat. The whetstone irritably scratched away at the edge of the axe and it was a few passes more before Dwalin sighed and stilled his hand.

"Nothing. Everything. You are a frustration and a curse." The words stung and Bo winced. Dwalin set his axe aside and brushed his hands together, the metal over his knuckles clinked softly. "You should have stayed behind. I would be the last to leave you in the care of elves, but in this matter, you would have truly been safe. They would have seen to your return home."

"Dwalin," Bo attempted, but the dwarf raised a hand at her and shook his head.

"Listen to me, you foolish thing." Dwalin growled. "I stand by what I said in your home. This place, this  _world_  is not meant for gentle-folk. I don't care how long ago it was since you could wield a blade, but you are well past any usefulness."

It was only as she blinked that she could feel the swell of tears at the corners of her eyes. She reached up with her mangled hand and wiped away at the moisture. The lady in white stood in her mind's eye and Bo did her best to remember their conversation. Dwarves were blunt and unruly. They knew neither patience nor tact, not without a lot of training.

Even so, the words took to her heart like a seizure. A few deep and conscious breaths were pressed from her lungs before she brought her blue gaze up to Dwalin. So many words wanted to spill from her mouth. There was any number of vicious things she could say, about her home, their appearance in it, their disregard for every other soul around them, their greed for a mountain and home long gone.

"I was forty and four when my mother passed away." Bo whispered into the cold night. She tugged her scarf tighter around her neck and avoided Dwalin's startled gaze. "My father, Bungo Baggins, had passed away some years before and ever since we had lost him, my mother began to fade away." She kicked away a few rocks by her toes and sighed and wondered what she meant to convey with such a story.

"I had joined the Bounders about halfway between then and there." Bo glanced down at the elven sword that lay beside her and she snorted. "I felt utterly helpless. My father had been so proper and keen to the social cues of our people. None would say there was any more Hobbit than my father. My mother…" A breathless laugh escaped her and she glanced up to Dwalin. Surprise struck his face and he seemed frozen, but she could not place why.

"She was beautiful, Dwalin. She had a life, a spirit, a fire to her that none could match. She was wild, but forgiving. She knew very little in the way of despair and yet she could empathize with all around her who suffered or slipped into darkness. I could be nothing like her. I was torn between being a Baggins and a Took."

"Lass, you don't need to," Dwalin fell silent when Bo pinned him with a look.

"So when my father died," Bo continued as if he had remained silent. "To watch her fire fade… it killed me. Nothing I did seemed to bring her back to life. No art, no music, no song, no skill I acquired gave her enough joy to keep her around." Her tears reappeared and she growled as she smacked them away from her cheeks.

"I felt so useless." Bo murmured into her scarf. A hand came up to the left side of her face and she pressed the pad of her thumb to her scar and followed the jagged line up to her brow. She could not see it, but Dwalin's gaze traced the scar with her finger and his forehead furrowed thoughtfully. "I threw myself into the Bounders, much to  _everyone's_  displeasure, but I couldn't… I couldn't stay home and wait and watch my mother just die. I had to live, even when my mother decided otherwise."

Then suddenly, Bo felt the blow come to her and it took the breath from her lungs. She knew where this story was going and it pained her to think that history had come to repeat itself in the most unlikely of ways. She turned her watery eyes up to Dwalin and the dwarf looked pained to hold her gaze. She smiled sadly and shrugged stiffly within her coat. "Just as I cannot sit by in the comfort of Rivendell and do  _nothing._ "  _I cannot simply throw myself into the river and hope to drown. I must try._

"You are right, Master Dwalin." Bo said to him and the dwarf winced. "This world is no place for the gentle-folk, or for any folk, I would wager. Only… I have learned that  _safety_ , even within one's own home, is sometimes no place for them, either. Sometimes we must cope with the choices we make, even if they do not always appear to be the right ones."

"Mistress," Dwalin called out to her gently and she hummed in response. Dwalin tilted his head, "I… We have only ever meant to protect you."

Bo gave him a smile and rolled into her bed, her thread-bare blanket over her shoulder, "I see that, now. You all should know better than anyone, Master Dwalin, in that I only ever mean to protect you  _all._  Let me have my promises, and I shall not judge yours."

"… Aye, Mistress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SWEET BABY GEEZUS. An update. A bit shorter than others, but it's something.


	13. A Spot of Bad Luck

She had caught Thorin and Balin staring at the map for a few days now. Continually throughout their travel over the jagged rocks that slid out from the mountains' roots and over the grassy plains that seemed endless, Thorin and Balin would hunch themselves over a shred of paper and mutter to themselves. She had wanted to ask what they searched for, but whenever she came close, whoever held the map would quickly tuck it away.

Bo, on the other hand, would find that she was to be tossed from one bored dwarf to another. The walking, marching, and hiking were tedious and though the terrain changed constantly, the landscape did little to keep the attention of the hearty creatures.

One day, she was in the care of Bofur and Nori (and how that combination of caretakers had happened, she could never guess). The two had entertained themselves by tossing a slowly disappearing apple between each other. It was mistake when she ducked about halfway through the game (and only half the apple remained, so really, she shouldn't have bothered) and then they  _actively_  attempted to hit her with the apple core.  _Bastards._

Further along, when the plains began to dry away and turn to raggedy stone, Bo was under the watchful brows of Dori and Bombur. The first ticked his fingers and clucked his tongue at the state of her clothes and lack of armor. The second grew concerned over her thinning frame and slow descent into silence. One, she could explain, as they had left Rivendell so abruptly that all her armor, new and old, had been forgotten away in the elven forge. It worried her just as much as Dori that she was now significantly unprotected, but she would not complain. She came along due to her stubborn ( _poor_ ) decision-making and she would live with it.

Or die, as the case could very well be.

For Bombur, though, the explanation was much harder. "We eat about seven times a day, Master Bombur." She shrugged her sloping shoulders. "Hobbits are accustomed to large and frequent meals. I was, for a time, too, but I shall manage with much less, I assure you."

"Oh, but Mistress, you should see yourself." The dwarf lamented. She knew he meant no harm or insult to her less-than-becoming physicality, but Bo still winced at his words. He continued, "If you have such a practice, we should be feeding you more, not less! What if you get sick or worse? You have already lost some healthy roundness from around your middle."

"It is not as I am going to drop dead right at this very moment from starvation, Master Bombur!" Bo reassured him with a pat on his thick arm. "We Hobbits are resilient creatures, and I've gone a handful of years with less than seven meals, and I have done no worse for myself in those times."

The cook was utterly unconvinced with her and for the following nights he always tried to shove a little more into her bowl. For as much as she appreciated it, her stomach had already shrunk from the lack of large and fatty meals and so she gave whatever she didn't, or couldn't, eat to the princes, or Bifur.

Bifur was usually faster at getting to her first.

It was when the mountains started to turn villainous in their pathways that she found herself in Dwalin's broad shadow. The silent dwarf was a relief to have at her side, despite the fact that being with him usually meant she was within arm's reach of Thorin Blast-Him-To-The-Ends-Of-The-Earth-Oakenshield. The would-be king hardly spoke to her and rarely brought his mighty gaze down from his high pillar to grace her, and Bo found that she was quite fine with that.

She also appreciated Dwalin's presence and his ability to keep things quiet around her when she found the chatter of the group to be more than she was willing to bear. The further and further they came away from what appeared to be civilized world, the more and more Bo found her mood and mind darkening and the words of the Elf Maiden in White dripped through her thoughts like a poison rather than encouragement.

_What was I thinking; really, spur of the moment and my passionate Took side gets the better of me. All respectability lost._ They climbed now into the mountains and she retreated quietly within herself. Her gaze concentrated on where she placed her feet and her hands were mindful of their grips among the rocks and ledges.

In any case, respectability now was a lost and fickle thing, mostly due to the fact that it was less than a handful of months into their journey and, bless his little curious mind, Ori approached her with his curiosity. He stuttered and hiccupped and fiddled with his journal and Dwalin very nearly cuffed him at the back of the neck if Bo hadn't jumped in when she spotted his knuckle covers from the corner of her eyes.

"Master Ori," Bo asked with haste and shot Dwalin a searing glance. "What, precisely, is it that you are trying to ask me? Out with it, my good dwarf, I am very unlikely to find anything you ask disagreeable."

"I would hope so, truly." Ori swallowed. "It is only… well. Dwarrowdams usually have… well, that is to say… their  _monthlies_  and you haven't… had… any. I do not think so?" Bo blinked and it took a few paces before his stuttering had come to her full force. She groaned and a crooked hand swiftly slapped her face to cover her heated cheeks.

"Master Ori…" She couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. She could see now that the young dwarf was just as embarrassed, but of all of them to probably ask that question, Ori had the most cause. He was their chronicler, after all. Or perhaps he was worried about her health, and thus the only one brave enough to ask? No, Óin would have thought to ask, but then again he was more of the like to wait for an illness or a wound to appear before he went looking for trouble. Bo leaned her head toward Ori and the dwarf made a hasty change in his pace to match her.

"Remember when I said I was to be the last of my name, whether I stayed or left?" Ori nodded and gave her the smallest of frowns with it. "Well, I hadn't lied. I was forty on the dot when I… lost the privilege. I shan't be having children, Master Ori."

Ori's face crumbled and paled. "Oh. Oh, Mistress, I beg your pardon, I – I had not –"

"It's quite alright, my dear." She murmured to him, and then in the whirl of his fluster, she reached up and around his shoulders and dragged him into a hug against her side. He calmed, somewhat, and relaxed to avoid jutting her around unnecessarily. His gait was extremely awkward with their differences in height, but he made no move to dislodge himself from her hold.

"May I ask, how did it happen, Mistress?" Ori ventured gently.

"Accident, mostly." Bo replied breezily with her gaze away. "I was still young, you see, and quite foolish. I had climbed up along this grand tree in search of a few bird feathers for a gift." She remembered that day all too well. A young Hobbit lad had been on her mind that day, and his birthday had arrived. A quill made from the feathers of his favorite bird had been a brilliant idea to her love-struck mind.

"I fancied myself very much in love. I had later found out that he had his eyes set on another, but no matter." Bo grinned and shrugged, but she could tell from Ori's pinched brow and Dwalin's roughened exhale that it was no small thing to casually brush away. "I climbed the tree further than I should have, and the last branch I had stepped on had given away. I fell, and landed on my stomach."

"Oh no." Ori breathed and glanced down at her middle. Bo tightened her arm around his shoulders and he brought his gaze back up to her face.

"Oh yes. I was coughing blood up for weeks. The apothecary thought for sure I would die from internal bleeding. I did not, but… after that, my body was never the same." She turned to Ori and she gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, but the taste of her tongue was bitter. "The things we do for love, aye?"

Then, in the middle of their walking, Ori turned to her and gripped her into a hug. So startled by the action was she that she did not fight it and in the end, her arms settled around his waist and she waited. Dwalin had stopped as well, but she was unsure if the rest of the Company had taken notice. Goodness, she hoped not.

"Dwarves know the feeling all too well, Mistress." Ori murmured into her braided hair. "It's a fine line we walk between madness and pride when it comes to the things we value most." She would never be able to explain why, but to hear the words come from Ori's mouth pained her heart and clutched at her lungs. She hugged him tighter still and their walk long after was quiet and companionable.

Perhaps the Elf Maiden in White was not so mistaken, after all.

0 o 0

The rain had started violently. There was no warning and no trickle of splattering drops on the stones to give them a moment's notice. Bo could not even recall if the sunlight had been present before the downpour had become an invasion. Then, the  _noise_ , a sudden clatter of thunder echoed overhead and she pressed face between the space of Ori's shoulders and the dwarf reached back and gripped the edge of her mangled coat.

He said something to her, but over the whistle of the crying wind and the howl of thunder, it could have just as well been gibberish. Dori stood behind her with a firm and unrelenting grip that nearly ripped into the curve of her clavicle. If she had not feared for her life (or that a gust of wind would take her) she would have slapped his hand right off.

As Ori pulled and Dori shoved, Bo made her way along the slick mountainside. She was glad for the rain as the sting from the sputtering droplets kept her eyes downcast and at her feet. She couldn't tell the edge from the pit below as all the rocks appeared similar in their wet state.

A vicious gust of wind came from under them and ripped Bo from her place. Her hand slipped from Ori's cloak and Dori's hand was yanked from her clothes. The thunder swallowed her yowl of pain as his fingers were forcibly removed. For a moment she fought a scream in her throat as her mind filled with visions of an untimely end at the jagged rocks below.

"Oh, no you don't, little thing!" Glóin yelled, then snagged her quickly as she tumbled and he brought her promptly to his chest. The wind was knocked from her lungs and she snapped her hands to his gauntlet with half a scream still ripped from her throat. Glóin wasted no time in handing her back to Dori, and the other dwarf smashed her under his arm and practically hauled her off her feet.

Bo wasn't sure if the wetness on her face was from the rain, or suspect tears that she felt prick at the back of eyes. She was pushed forward and Ori's face was obscured by his loose braids, but the young lad had a look of determination in his eyes. He took her arm with confidence and dragged her upward and over an edge to follow Dwalin. They were doing what they could to keep her from the back of the line.

Then, through the thunder and the shattering rain, she could hear the loud tremor of Thorin's voice. He shouted, but it mattered not, she could hear nothing through this gods-forsaken storm. Dwalin shouted in return and all the words were lost to the pounding headache that spawned in between her ears. They had to get out of the storm; they would not survive like this! Something around them trembled. Bo brought her eyes to blink and up into the sky they focused. Through the clouds, she could see it.

A boulder was hurtling toward them.

Shadows immediately engulfed her as Ori pressed her into the mountain and shoved her head under his chin and held her there as tightly as he could. Dwalin's body soon followed and all three of them huddled together as the mountain shook around them and rocks crashed down from above. Bo held her hands over her ears against the chaos. Moments flickered by and soon Dwalin's leather grip took her arm and hauled her forward.

She was cattle and a heavier burden than the lot of them would be able to carry over the mountains.

"Look!" Someone shouted through the furor. "Stone Giants! Take cover, hurry!"

Bo's gaze surged to the sky and her throat strangled itself violently. From the mountain came away a body. It was large and loomed over the endless pit below them as it wasn't much more than a puddle. Its arms took a hold of the mountain's face and pulled away another boulder. Then, unbelievably, it aimed for  _them_. The surprise had frozen her bones, because there was now an impossible creature and it –

"Dive, move!" A hand shoved at her back and she stumbled forward onto her hands and knees. They were scraped and the blood disappeared quickly in the rain. A shadow appeared behind the Company and the mountain shook sickeningly. Bo glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a  _second_  Giant join the first. The boulder that had been chucked at them collided with the second and amazingly, it took off nearly a half of the second Giant's face.

Nori was with her, somehow, and he took her elbow and brought her to her weakened feet. She slipped on the dicey rock and Nori growled something in his mother tongue before he took her up into his arms and then  _tossed_  her. A scream escaped her throat but it was sputtered out as she landed in Dwalin's rough hold. She gazed back to Nori and could see why the dwarf had seen it fit to throw her.

The mountain they stood on was splitting apart. Half the Company was on one ledge and the others that remained behind were suddenly jutted out into the open and over the pit. Dwalin and Bo glanced up and a  _third_  Giant had come to the battlefield.

"Oh, for Mah –" She felt Dwalin's chest radiate with his rage and ire, but they had no time to dwell upon it. She reached up and gripped at the fur on his shoulder and shook it as roughly as she could to gain his attention. The Company that had been split from them was on the move, as the knee of the third Giant came around and it charged for the first.

The creature was dealt a deafening blow and the crag groaned as the Giant toppled over it. The Company with it plummeted into the mountainside. Dwalin and Bo shouted in unison, but the larger dwarf reacted with speed and left her against the mountain and dove with Thorin toward the edge to find what fate had befallen the others.

It seemed Bo was the only one to notice Kíli who dangled over the edge. Without a thought, Bo dove for the young prince and her eyes blurred with auroras along the limits of her vision as she reached out her hands for the prince.

"Kíli! Kíli, please, take my hands!" Bo reached out over the slick rock and her fingers were within Kíli's grasp in less than a moment. She brought twisted hand down from where it gripped the rock to steady her and held onto the prince with all she could muster.

"Don't let go," Kíli gasped. His boots scraped at the rock and he could not bring his weight upward.

"Don't be mad," Bo hissed in reply. She turned to look over her shoulder, but her braid and the rain obscured her gaze. " _Dwalin_!" She nearly blacked out from the warrior's weight as he hastily crashed down halfway onto her and reached for the prince. In that second, though, and Dwalin's tumble on to her body, her had fingers slipped and loosened.

"No!" Kíli shouted. In an instant, a blur of blue fur and chainmail crashed past them. Thorin threw himself down to another cliff's edge and leaned forward with one foot and tore his fingers into Kíli's shoulder. Like a wet and mangled pup, the prince was hauled up closer to Dwalin's awaiting arms and the warrior angrily drew the prince up and practically threw him onto his brother further along the mountainside.

Dwalin then shoved her aside and reached out for Thorin.

Alarmed and with a violent shake, Bo crawled toward the closest wall and wrapped her arm around her knee and curled into her chest. She took big, burning, deep gulps of air and choked on the rain. Her crooked fingers tangled into her hair and she yanked on her braid.

_We almost lost him. He almost went off the edge. If I hadn't seen him in time? If Dwalin hadn't come..?_  A thousand thoughts flew through her mind in the violent gale of hurricanes and she muffled a sob with her bloody knees. The others collected together and Thorin kept a hand on Kíli's shoulder with a melting glare.

"Where's the burglar? Where's our little mistress?" Bofur's voice called into the dwindling rain. Bo feebly raised her hand and it was grasped by Bofur's mittens. He laughed and assisted her up to a stand. Her knees knocked together and she swallowed a final time to find her voice. She gave the dwarf a half smile.

"Thought we lost you for a moment there, little Mistress. Hadn' been sure where Dwalin had tossed you." Bofur smiled winningly despite the danger that had just surrounded them.

"I did  _not_  toss her, anywhere." Dwalin growled from a way off, higher on the pass.

"And a good thing, too, as there's not much room to throw things around here." Bofur teased. Bo rested her hand on his chest and Bofur fell silent. He sighed and rubbed at her shoulders to bring the warmth back into them through her wet clothes. "It's alright, Mistress. We've found you."

"Nonsense." Thorin's voice snarled through the darkness. Bo shuddered at the tone that gripped his words. "She's been lost ever since she set foot outside her door. She should have stayed at home and not burdened us with her uselessness."

"Well, we can't rightly send her  _back_. Find some shelter, would you, brother?" Balin curved into the conversation smoothly. He stood between Thorin and Bofur, who in turn shielded Bo from the ever-present glare that marred the would-be king's face.

Bofur braced her against his side and away he led her toward a small cave that Dwalin had found along the side of the mountain. Bo touched her heated face and wiped away at the water that collected on the curve of her cheeks. Whether they were rain or tears, she cared not for the answer any longer.

The cave was at the very least warm. The entrance was narrow and it turned in such a way that it kept the worst of the whistling wind out of their ears and away from their shivering bodies. No fire was built, and a good thing, too. There was hardly any ventilation as far as Bo could inspect and the last thing they needed was to choke on the ash.

The Company settled into the nooks of the cave and Bofur took watch by the entrance. She settled by his feet and pulled off her mucky cloak. A loud and disgusting wet  _smack_  echoed through the cave as her cloak hit the ground and she refused to look any of the dwarves in the eye when they glanced back at her. Damn them, and damn their king, too.

Again, she pulled her legs up and brought her knees tight to her chest. She curled her head down upon them and not long after there came a heavy cover over her head. Her hands shook as she reached up and felt the furred flaps of Bofur's hat as it rested over her ears. New and hot tears sprang to her eyes and she tugged on the hat until it was snug against her forehead.

0 o 0

Bofur could hear the rustle of a pack before he saw her. The little creature was good at being as silent as any grave when the need suited her, but her things were still noisy and had no qualms about alerting anyone who were in range. He watched as she tucked away her bedroll and shuffled into her cloak. She turned and gave a jerk when their eyes locked; his hat trembled in her hand.

"Just where do you think you are goin'?" Bofur asked with a hard look to her person. Her knees were bloodied and her hands reddened, but her face was pale and it made her blue eyes a sickened sight. A shaky determination echoed in their depths.

"I am headed back to Rivendell, Master Bofur." She stated quietly. She tipped around him and held out his hat, but he refused it.

"Are you mad? In this? You can't!" Bofur argued. "You are a part of this Company! We stuck together, lass, there's no leaving!"

"Oh, stop it, Bofur!" She hissed. The use of his name without her polite-title for him startled his mouth shut. Her tiny face was ablaze with indignation and her brow was furrowed with a crack over her eyes. Her scar slithered over her cheek and seemed to snap just as readily as her words.

"Mistress," he tried again.

"Do  _not_ ," she raised her hand with his hat and shoved it into his chest. "I have tried, desperately, to prove my worth and it has given me nothing but grief. Master Oakenshield was right, I do not belong here." Bofur danced on his heels with her as she tried to get around him.

"Mistress, I understand, I really do. You are homesick,  _I know_ , it happens to all of us." Bofur gave her some comfort. He truly did know what it felt like to miss home. They had been missing it for years now, and all they had left was each other, even after such a short of a time together. To see the little mistress go now would be a heart's break. She was had come to fit with them so well and he could see the love she held for them, now.

"No, you don't!" She snapped, pulling him from his thoughts. "You don't  _understand!_  You don't know what it's like to be ousted by your very  _kin_ , lest of all have no home to return to!" The fury in her whisper punched him and he stepped back in surprise. The heat of her blood and risen to her face and her cheeks glowed with her anger with her fists tight at her sides.

Her words echoed to her, it seemed, because she ducked her head with shame. "I'm… I'm so sorry, Master Bofur, that was –"

"It's alright, Mistress." Bofur stopped her. He would let her go, as much as it pained his heart to do so. The Company would have his head for it, when they awoke, but she was her very own. She could do as she pleased, even if no one else would be  _as_  pleased with it. "I wish you the very best of luck, little Mistress, and all the hope in the world that you find what you are looking for, in the end."

Bo's shoulders sagged and she gave him a faint smile. "Thank you, Master Bofur." She turned and he bowed his head to her in acceptance of her departure, his gaze lingering on the turn of her ankles and up to her hips and hands.

Wait a moment, he thought as he looked at her hips again. "Mistress, what's…?"

Bo's bright blue eyes traveled down to where his gaze met her body and her crushed hand gripped her small sword. She pulled it out of its sheath and the bright blue glow rivaled the color of her gaze. With a whip, her head came up and her mouth opened, breathless.

"Wake up!" Thorin shouted from the back of the cave. Bofur felt the lurch of the ground from under his boots and a fist lodged in his throat as he fell. Bo's name was caught on his tongue as he watched her jerk forward, her hands out to catch him. A shout did come from his stomach finally as the little mistress was swallowed down into the darkness with them, her feet came down over her head and she landed into Bofur with a crack.

Only she slipped out of his hands and he cursed his failure. He saw her float just above him, her smaller size made her lighter than his brethren and it would have been a relief if he hadn't lost sight of her. They hit the rock of the tunnel with a thundering bang and continued down into the depths and somewhere in the glittering light, he could hear Bo scream.

He prayed he found her first, or one of the Company, and not whatever had laid the trap for them.

When they landed, it was with tangled limbs and smashed bodies. The Company hurried to remove themselves from each other and be back on their feet, but they were overrun by wart-covered creatures of the deep. Goblins, Bofur recognized them, and he punched one square in the nose as he came up for air.

"Nori! Lads! I lost – I lost the burglar!" Bofur choked on his words. He almost gave her away, almost told the rotten sods of goblins of her weakness and they would have had at her faster than the Company could keep her safe. Bofur was pulled away by the tips of his braid being yanked and then he was shoved from behind, a point came into contact with his spine.

"Take them all, you dogs!" A goblin screeched from behind them. The crowd poured over the rickety wood pathway and no matter what Bofur did, he could not shake them loose. There was another scream and this one was decidedly feminine.

No. Oh  _no_.

The Company was herded as cattle toward the massive cavity of the mountain. Nori and Dori were shoved up next to Bofur and their limbs were crushed together as they stumbled. Nori gasped and yanked at his hands as a goblin tried to bind them in their run, "Where's the burglar?"

"I dun no!" Bofur barked. "I lost h –  _him_  after we fell!"

"Did anyone see the burglar slip away?" Dori growled and drew a fist back to deliver a wicked blow into the awaiting face of another goblin. Their warts and disfigurements made them all appear the same and it was maddening. One would be slain and three more would pop into the vacated space.

"Baggins was captured!" Glóin hollered from behind them. "They've got 'em, he's behind the pups!" Nori and Bofur released a string of curses in their tongue and fought harder to escape. If the goblins found out about their little mistress, she would be the first to be taken, to be skinned or eaten, or worse. It made no difference, though, as they were soon at a quaking platform in the middle of a gaping pit in the mountain. All around them a unstable structure of platforms and bridges sprung up in haphazard placement and workmanship.

The torches around them flickered with the stale and toxin air of the breath of thousands of goblins as they were led to the largest of them. A sick and twisted song echoed through the rock and the dwarves huddled together as they were prodded into place.

They were surrounded by the singing circus of creatures and Nori sneered into the face of one as Dori shoved at another. Glóin spotted Bo first before the others and with a snap of his hand, he reached for her and wrenched her into Dwalin's shadow.

"Now would would be so bold as to come  _armed_  into my kingdom?" The giant beast before them roared, a shower of spit and something else that was thick and stingy coming over the Company. "Is it thieves?  _Assassins?!_ "

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence." A goblin cried from the front. The pack of goblins shuddered around them and the stench seemed to settle as the shuffling lot came to a standstill, or as still as they could manager with their disfigurements. The Company closed tighter around the center where Balin, the princes, and Bo Baggins were located. A sham of a defense, but it would have to do.

"Dwarves?" The Goblin Beast roared. "Then search them! No one comes into my abode without the proper permission!"

A spark of lightning seemed to jolt through the Company and immediate fight broke out amongst them and the spidery fingers that searched them. Bo was pressed into Dwalin's chest and Thorin's shoulders at his back and between them she remained unnoticed, miraculously. The rest of them lost their possessions to the questing beasts and Nori's haul was the biggest distraction.

Bifur and Bofur made notes to thank the thief for his sticky fingers if they ever made it out of this mess.

"Now, speak! What are you doing in these parts?" The Goblin's Misfit King demanded. His staff of skulls gave a heavy clank against the wood that held them up and the little goblins skittered like rodents at the sound of it. As a whole, the Company remained still and silent. If any of them moved or tried to protect the princes or the mistress, they would have lost it all.

"Oh, is that so, then?" The giant growth sneered. "Very well, then! It has been some time since we've had a spot of fun, isn't that right, lads!" Cheers and gutted howls echoed throughout the mountain's guts and it rattled the skulls of the Company. "If they will not talk, then we shall make them  _squawk!_ "

More cheers ricocheted through the rocks and another crash of the staff rang through their ears. "Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the  _Bone Breaker_! We'll start with the youngest of them and see how far we can –"

"Wait!" Thorin barked from within the group and made his way forward. Dwalin growled in his throat and hastily shuffled his tiny bundle into the arms of Fíli and Kíli. The Princes were then smothered between Bombur and Bifur and the Company would be damned if any of those three were sacrificed in this damned hole. Ori stood defiantly before Bifur and glared at the nearest goblin and dared it to swing.

Nori grinned and nodded his head, but Dori shot him a look that told him very clearly that  _now_  was the very wrong time for such a thing.

"Well, well,  _well._ " The Growth King sneered happily. "Look at this. Thorin, son of Thraín, son of Thror; King Under The Mountain." The goblin gave Thorin a heavy and lumpy bow. The skin on his body sloshed from one side to another and pooled in awkward places along his armpits and neck. Dori puffed his cheeks and did his best to keep his stomach from relieving itself.

"Oh, but I do believe I forget myself." There was a laugh and it was echoed amongst the little creatures that held the Company in place. "You don't  _have_  a mountain. You're not a king, either! Which, in the end, makes you a  _nobody_ , really. Shame, that."

A round of snickers and from within the Company, something shifted and there was a muffled hiss. The Goblin King danced on the edge of his rotten toes and lowered his head slightly to Thorin. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, you understand, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak? A Pale Orc… astride a White Warg…"

Thorin gave no shiver of fright or cause for terror. He stood tall and his chin held itself proud at the click of the Goblin King's teeth. The Company stood with him and his strength was theirs. He would find a way to pull them from this madness; he had a talent for that.

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed." Thorin snarled deeply. "He was slain in battle long ago."

"And you think his defiling days are over, do you?" The Goblin King smiled wickedly and turned to a small blotch of skin and bone that sat on a piece of wood held up on a string and pulley. "Send word to the Pale Orc, I have found his prize! The rest of you, bring out the machines! The rest are our reward!"

A hideous roar of clattering metal and bodies tumbled through the cavity of the mountain. The Company was pressed together and they shoved back where they could. Thorin was pushed back into the protective hold of his companions and they turned their backs to the center to protect their smallest.

But their smallest had other ideas.

One of the goblins had grabbed a hold of something small and blackened. It was only with great shock that the few in front realized what it was. "Damn little bastard has the key," Nori hissed to Bofur. "How did they manage to get that from Thorin?"

"We need to get it back." Balin demanded from behind them. "Do what you can to distract them, Bofur, and Nori –"

Quick as a bird, their little mistress darted out from Nori's side by his legs and slammed a curled fist into the nose of the goblin that held the key. With a yelp and yowl, the goblin dropped the metal key into the tiny, pale hand of their mistress. She, on the other end, fell into the grip of the Goblin King. A collective roar came from the Company as they seized forward and where only shoved back by the swing of the Goblin King's staff.

"And what," The Goblin beast asked gleefully, "is this little thing? You don't look like a dwarf, creature. Tell me your name!" The creature held their mistress up by the length of her throat and her bare feet dangled helplessly. Her hands, though, swung free and limp.

There was no key in her hands.

Alarmed now that their mistress would be strangled for nothing, Nori and Dori made another push to get to her, but the goblins in front of them snapped their teeth and swung their claws. The Goblin King laughed and shook Bo like a doll.

"Oh, I know what you are!" He announced with pride. "You are one of those little halflings! The little parasites from beyond the mountains, oh yes, I know your kind very well." The Goblin King's mouth grew wide and wet as he flashed his decaying teeth to her. He brought her closer to his face and his fingers tightened. Bo's eyes shut tightly against the pain and a small burp of a squeak was all she could muster.

"Halflings… it was many winters ago, was it not, little thing?" The King taunted. The Company went still and the goblins around them fussed in confusion. Bofur's mouth slowly slipped open as he watched Bo's face drain of its blood and her eyes paled with fear.

"Get to her," Balin commanded, "get to her  _now_ , she won't fight, push,  _push!_ "

"Is that scar from us, dear creature?" The Goblin King teased with a shake of his hand. "I bet it is. A nice reminder of your betters, wouldn't you say?" The ruckus of the Company was enough to draw his attention from the little Hobbit in his grip. Nori, Bifur, Bofur swung hard at the goblins that held them in place and the rest of the Company shoved at their back to keep them from losing a step.

"What's this, a rebellion?!" Cried the Goblin Beast. "For what? This spit of a creature?" He turned his beady gaze back to Bo and sniffed his nose at her. He held her out aloft and peered at her with a level brow and squinting eye. "I see no worth to this little thing. No meat, no color. No bones to break either, as limp as it is." He gave Bo another hard shake and she whimpered in his grip.

Then he turned and settled his gaze with Thorin's, his smirk deep and darkened. "I shall do you a favor and save you the trouble of worrying for your pet. You'll need to save as much of that for yourself, now." He tossed her with a flick of his meaty wrist.

She screamed.

The maw of the mountain's mouth swallowed her, and she was gone.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY. NOT SORRY.
> 
> Posted on my Halloween Night. Happy nightmares, everyone.


	14. Into The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. Two updates in less than a month. That's some good tea, sir. Anyway, I want to thank all of you that come through and read through my stuff (my horrendously wild assumptions with storytelling and emotional devastation), and I greatly appreciate all of you who take the time to leave me a comment or two, it's always nice to know how my work is being interpreted. 
> 
> Now, enjoy.

The entirety of the hollowed mountain died into silence with a keen ringing in Thorin's ears. It was her scream that echoed through the rocks, but his mind could not fathom the noise that drifted down into the darkness. Even as the Grotesque King shouted above his troupe and the goblins had seizures around them, Thorin was lost to the mindless shadowed memory of her body tossed over the platform.

 _Tossed_ , as if she had been nothing more than a rag left to the wind.

The chaos of his enraged company was outdone by the sudden madness that came from their capturers. A goblin had gotten a hold of his sword, Orcrist, and the sword cried with a shrill ring as she was rattled to the floor from the hands of the enemy.

A whip whistled and came to his face and struck him solidly across his jaw. Kíli howled with pain off to Thorin's right and he was snapped from his numbness by pain and danger. Without a thought, Thorin drew his fist back and delivered a strike to the closest goblin he could reach. His nephew wasted no time with a low kick to the creature's face as it stumbled to its hands and knees.

The Company around him was in shambles. Thorin roared and dove into the rage with his blood set to boil out of his heart. His lungs burned with the stench of the pus and his knuckles were soon busted open from the blows he could land. Dwalin rumbled with a battle cry that was muffled by his shoulders and the bodies of the goblins stupid enough to think they could flatten the warrior.

His nephews were paired and shook off their attackers as best they could, but they were young and unaccustomed to battle with empty hands and completely outnumbered. Bifur cried wildly and Thorin noticed with alarm that the eccentric warrior was using the broken axe on his  _head_  as an on-the-spot-weapon.

"Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!  _Cut off his head_!" The Goblin King shrieked from his retreat to his throne. The goblins screamed and their flurry of movements became horrendously frenzied and Thorin found that he could not keep the smallest of them off his back. A bite came down on his shoulder and nearly took its teeth to his neck, but the fur of his tattered clothing covered enough of his skin to avoid it.

The teeth were short and sharp, but the initial sting of the bite only annoyed him and he reached over his shoulder to grip his fingers into the eye socket of the meddling beast. It wasn't to be, for as he did so, the creature took a hold of his wrist and slapped him down to the ground. A pile of slick and sweaty bodies followed his fall and smothered him with disgusting heat.

He was extremely tempted to be sick all over them, just out of spite. A slink body came over his chest and a set of knobby knees took the breath from his lungs. Thorin heard Dwalin shout his name from somewhere over his restrained head and behind his goblin-body shackles. The goblin over him sneered widely and a gob of spit pooled from the corner of its mouth and dripped down into his hair as the creature laughed.

Sick, he could most definitely attempt to be sick.

He felt the ripple before the blast. Something echoed through the noise and like a crash of a landslide, it rocked into his body and the lights were violently snuffed out or flickered to near death. Darkness prevailed as the crowd of boiled skin dropped as dead flies around him. There was a muted beat throughout and confusion was thick. Thorin turned his head and winced as his hair snagged on a cracked plank of wood. A light shone in the darkness and the gleam of a blade danced overhead. The bodies around him roused from their dizziness.

"Stand! Take up your arms and fight!" Gandalf's voice cried in the weakened light. Immediately Dwalin and Thorin took their heels up and smashed their boots with a satisfying crack into a goblin's face. Thorin was sure that the creature's jaw had come away unhinged and wiggled under the pale skin. Fíli and Ori pulled themselves up together with locked arms and Ori was shoved into a nearby goblin skitter. The beast was trampled upon soon after. Thorin was on his feet with a twist of his knee and he searched for his sword. There was no sign of it under the mess of busted boils and blood and he growled with frustration.

"Thorin!" Nori laughed in the crazed fighting. "Turn, you great oaf!"

He did so and was reward with a rolled up Nori that held his sheathed blade out to him. With a grin, Thorin took the grip of his sword at the hilt. A frightening clatter of stomping feet and a looming shadow alerted him to the approaching Goblin King. Thorin roared and drew out his blade. The metal burned in the low light and she screamed with victory as she struck the Goblin King's staff away.

There wasn't even a rattle in his hands and she laughed as she was swung. Two, four, five necks served to quench her bite and the meaty, lopsided heads rolled and tripped up the feet of their kin. Dwalin found his axes and soon half a dozen goblins were slain in a single swing. Balin cheered as his sword came up from the ground with a clap and took the legs of a bloated beast as it charged (or rolled).

There were harried howls around them and it made Thorin turn in time to see the fat lumps of the Goblin King rolled and slipped off the platform and he took a handful of goblins with him. Thorin snarled into his shoulder as Orcrist sang with his might behind her.  _Good_ , he thought, and he only hoped that the cursed creature would hit twice as many rocks as Bo Baggins had in her descent.

 _Bo Billa._ Her name alone stuttered his gut and her scream resurfaced anew.

Now was not the time.

"Hurry, come and follow me! Fight!  _Fight_!" Gandalf commanded. The Company took up the remaining weapons from the pile and threw them to each other. Thorin spared a few sharp eyed glances to the ground, but his key was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath and faltered as Dwalin pushed a hand between his shoulders and drove him along behind the wizard.

The Company blazed a trail through the winding pathways of the ramshackle constructs. Gandalf led the way and his sword carved through mutated bodies with little a care. Dwalin kept his nephews near to him and defended them with blow after blow. Kíli fired away what arrows he could find or steal on the run and Fíli's strong swings sliced through skulls and limbs with sickening pops and hisses.

Behind him, he could hear the other brothers and cousins shouting as they were driven forward by the rolling horde of goblins that pursued them. Thorin assessed the shaking mess of wood around him and found many of the paths and shacks held up by ropes and thin poles.

"Cut away at the ropes as you run!" He yelled to his troupe. His blade flashed out and he spun the blade deftly into the knots as he passed. The bridge they stood on rattled and shook and Bofur let out a string of curses, a few with Thorin's name thrown into them. Bombur was at the end and his long cooking spoon was twirled and away went half the bridge after he crossed over. The goblins whined as they disappeared and Nori broke into a cackle and a club crashed down from behind his back and the last bit of the bridge was destroyed.

They ran.

The mountain shuddered around them and the walls were painted with pale bodies that chattered like roaches as they crawled over the edges with familiarity. Thorin swallowed and desperately attempted to keep his eyes on the quickly evaporating ground beneath his feet and not the wave of goblins that threatened to overtake them.

Gandalf turned, twisted, ducked, and volleyed as he flew. Goblins were thrust to one side or another by staff or sword. The Company slew with battle roars and howls of victory, but Thorin had no doubt that all their hearts pounded. They were endless in their spawning; head after head, after pus-filled head appeared and disappeared with startling frequency. It was with a heavy slap of blackened thoughts that Thorin realized if this many goblins existed; Bo Billa's body would never survive, no matter how far she fell.

The idea of her minuscule dilapidated to nothing but strips fired his lungs and the fingers that held onto Orcrist went numb and shook.  _Stupid creature,_  his mind snarled as the shine of his sword was brought into a bite against a mangled set of pale ribs,  _what was she thinking? She had no right!_

His knees were beginning to shake and his mind flashed to the open fields just beyond the Shire and the mad dash for their lives from the Wargs and their riders.  _Would she have survived this time?_  Another goblin was splattered against his boot and Thorin took a thick satisfaction as his boot snapped the bones of the creature's neck with ease.  _Or would she have fallen behind? Was the fall a true mercy?_

Thorin hoped now more than ever that she died swiftly and he ignored the shame that coward in his throat.

"There!" Gandalf called to the Company. "There is the exit out of the city! We must cross the bridge and continue down through the slopes!" The bridge that was their hope for survival was narrow and had a blind end that was swallowed by shadows. Thorin shook his head at the sight of it and prayed that whatever they faced on the other end was less repulsive. They had nearly made it, it was only a leap away and the chance was stole from them.

From the depths and much to Thorin's ire, the Grotesque King emerged from beneath the bridge and took a mad swing at the Company. Bifur and Dori managed to keep Gandalf from completely toppling over, but the rest of the troupe was smacked back by the surprise arrival. The goblin herd surrounded them in moments and the vibration of all their bodies in such a small place seemed to increase the heat within the mountain.

"Did you  _think_  that escaping me would be so easy?" The Goblin King growled as he hauled his carcass up onto the planks of the bridge. "You have found yourself in quite the pickle, don't you think so?"

"You have no sense to judge the predicament of others," Gandalf challenged and his sword came to his side, "when you have placed yourself in the worst!" Glamdring hissed angrily as the blade was drawn across the gullet and growth that choked at the Goblin's folds. For a spare moment or two, wizard and king locked in their gazes.

"I suppose that will do it." The words gurgled from the slit throat and the body dropped with a ripple. The bridge underneath their feet quaked from the sudden weight and Gandalf called for them to brace. No sooner had he spoken the words that the supports of the bridge buckled and then snapped.

They were suspended in disbelief for a single breath, and then they descended into madness.

0 o 0

"Thorin!" Dwalin's voice ripped into Thorin's haze. He found his body pinned to the rock of the mountain and a heavy mess of wood and dwarves above him. Dwalin had his fingers snagged into the back of his coat and proceeded to drag him out on his arse as if he were a pup with new feet. The others were assisted by whoever had managed to escape the wreckage first and it wasn't long before Gandalf barked at them with a new set of orders.

"I am truly becoming tired of his insistence." Dwalin muttered angrily with Thorin's arm wrapped tightly around his for support.

"His insistence is the only thing keeping us alive." Thorin hissed in reply.

"Gandalf!" Kíli shouted. Thorin and Dwalin looked above and the cloud of enemies began to blot out the light from within the mountain, or what remained of the city.

"Run, you fools!" Gandalf's staff came to Ori's back and shepherded him along with his brother Nori. Bofur picked up his cousin and Bombur herded them out like cattle. Dori had Fíli and Kíli (both practically slung under his arms and tightly secured by the tension of his muscles), and Glóin had his brother supported against his back in his haste to follow the wizard.

"You heard the wicked wizard, Thorin, keep moving!" Dwalin was by no means gentle in his assistance, but as Thorin stood on his feet, he could not tell where the pain started or where it could have possibly ended. His body radiated heated throbs of pain and swelling from their insane escape, but he had no time to dwell on the petty complaints of his limbs.

Into the darkness with only Gandalf's bright staff as a guide to the path ahead, the dwarves hurriedly stumbled to freedom. The mountain's rocks were less gutted the further they went and the air thinned as the walls closed in around them. Here and there one of the pups would stumble and thrash in his haste to right himself back to his feet, but they moved expeditiously with the direction of their other-worldly companion.

The sounds of goblins lessened and the patter of claws and feet melted away into the stone. The path dove deep into the rock and their feet sloshed in knee deep, cold, murky water before the slope pulled upward and higher to the surface. They were dwarves, and many of them could sense it now. The rock was less sturdy and it began to brittle. The rocks were slick and moist and the ground softened.

The end was near. The heart of the gutted mountain was behind them and salvation was at hand. In less than a few hours since that diabolical trap set by the mutated creatures of the mountain, they would be free and breathe air unpopulated by sweat and disease. As the path narrowed and light poured in from beyond the rock, Thorin felt his heart shudder with unease.

How was he to tell the wizard of their missing companion? Her disappearance would not go unnoticed, no, for the wizard had shown a fondness and affection toward her that he had not shared with others. Thorin closed his eyes and allowed his hand to slip along the cracks of the mountain as they ran.  _I am the leader of this company. She was mine to protect, and mine to honor. I shall tell him all._  The thought grieved him and it was not so much due to being the bearer of ill news to the wizard, but that –

 _This is precisely what I wished to save her from, and yet she found her fate anyway. Now I must live with her scream in my thoughts and the terror on her face in my dreams. She joins all the others I have failed._  He tripped over an overturned stone in the pathway and hissed as he jerked away. The path grew wide and spit them out on the other side. The sun was fiery and shrunken, and it was with a blink that Thorin realized it was the setting of the sun that surprised him.

How long had they been in that mountain? The storm with the Giants had been all-encompassing and there had been no light of day through the clouds to give them a sense of time. The sky slowly dripped to black as the sun retreated to the edge of the world. The Company made their haphazard way down the mountainside and it was only until Gandalf felt them sufficiently out of reach did he stop and turn to count them all.

Thorin wobbled past him and rested heavily on his sword and her sheath. His legs shook from his exertion and his lips whitened into a line at the sight of Dwalin bent over his axe and a cough in his throat. They escaped and yet none of them knew the extent of their injuries.

"… and Bombur." Gandalf counted the last of their collection. "That makes thirteen… and  _only_  thirteen." The wizard turned steely eyes to all of them and Thorin was not surprised to see that none in his Company would greet the accusatory gaze of the elder. "Where is the Hobbit? Where is Bo Billa?"

The silence said what they could not.

Thorin swallowed and stood tall against the weight of his guilt, "She fell with us, into the trap set by the goblins."

"And she is not here now, is she?" Gandalf snapped fiercely. "Tell me, then, how she has managed to become displaced between there and here?"

"She fell." Fíli's shoulders released a shudder and a line tightened in his jaw as he faced the wizard. "When we were taken, we had her with us, Kíli and I."

"Yes, and?" Gandalf pressed with a turn to the young dwarf.

Kíli came in next, "We tried to keep her still, to keep her quiet. We knew… We  _knew_  –"

"We knew that if the goblins found her out, and we stripped of our weapons, we could do nothing to save her." Fíli explained thickly. Thorin had only known where Bo had been when she was pressed up against his back with Dwalin as her guard. His confrontation with the Goblin King must have removed her and her protection was bequeathed to the princes.

Thorin's eyes shut in dismay. "They were not responsible for her, wizard. She slipped past them and dove into the fray."

"Miss Baggins would not do something so hastily as enter a fight she could not win!" Gandalf growled. "She is far smarter than that, she is not a dwarf who loses her head at the slightest provocation!"

"Do not point your finger at me, wizard!" Thorin immediately reared up to his full height. "She has been a menace and a nuance ever since we started this journey and now you seek to place blame on the Company who did nothing but keep her safe?"

"Keep her safe?" Gandalf approached Thorin with a crack of his staff. "Is demeaning her and demoralizing her spirit meant to keep her safe, Master Oakenshield?"

"I only did what I thought make her see reason." Thorin growled low in his throat. His companions shifted around him uneasily and shared a glance or two between each other. "It would have worked, too, and she would have never met such a disastrous end if she had only listened to her sense!"

Gandalf drew up cold and leveled his gaze at Thorin, then the others around him. "What do you mean?"

"She was going to go back to Rivendell." Bofur added softly. He pulled his hat from his head and swiped his mitted hand over his eyes. "She… she had packed her things, and was about to set off into the storm to go back to the elves. I… I let her leave, but the trap door opened up from under us, and she fell."

Gandalf closed his eyes gently and his back became burdened with all his centuries, "… and how did she die, Master Bofur?" Thorin stepped forward before Bofur could answer. That was no one's responsibility but his, as the leader of the company. Her death, directly or indirectly, was held accountable to himself by the grace of his conscience.

"She fell, Tharkûn," Thorin answered quietly. "She dove into the pile made of our possession and took the key back from a goblin. The...  _King_  had spotted her, gripped her by the throat… and then pitched her into the abyss below." It was so disturbingly cold to describe her death and the dwarves around him mirrored the ache of her loss. Their heads bowed or turned away and Thorin could not blame them for their despair.

The wizard stepped back unsteadily and his hand came up to his mouth. "My dear, sweet Bo Billa… I never meant…"

"Never meant what, Gandalf?"

A spasm had passed through Thorin at the sound of her voice and he clipped the balance of his sword. Startled gaps and gasps echoed through his companions and the vision before him deserved it. There before them all stood their tiniest Mistress. Her eye was blackened and swollen, a part of the scar along her face reopened and bleeding, and a corner of her smiling lips ripped open with splatters of mud and blood.

"I look an awful sight, don't I?" Bo attempted weakly, but the silence persisted. Thorin felt his stomach gurgle up behind his tongue and his knees weakened at the sight of her.  _How did she survive? How did she get out?_

Gandalf went toward her, but Bofur was faster. The wizard stopped with a shake in his shoulders and Bofur had wrapped himself around the little mistress with all the force of a jewel to a crown. She gasped in his hold and Bofur released her, his hands flying down her arms to inspect for injuries. Óin arrived at her side and shoveled Bofur off from her person.

"How?" Bofur demanded. "We saw – but lass, we – you fell!"

"I know." Bo coughed and quickly wiped the blood from her mouth. Thorin suspected Óin had already caught sight of it. "I was there."

"Bo Billa." Gandalf interjected angrily. "Now is not the time for your cheek."

"You sound like my father when you say that." Bo deflected. The wizard took a menacing step toward her and the Hobbit wilted slightly at his presence. "I did fall, truly and there is enough water down in that mountain to fill a lake."

"It most likely was a lake," Thorin said breathlessly as he approached closer. "The underground… cavarns, they collect rainwater over many centuries…" She was whole, for the most part. She was slathered in blood and he could not tell what of it was hers and what was not. She stood, though on shaky feet and knees that trembled, but she stood nonetheless. Thorin found her blue-blazed eyes and his mouth nearly gaped. "How did you…?"

Her hand shifted to her pocket and she hesitated. Óin paused in his cleaning of her head wound and his gaze flickered between her hand hidden away and her face. The Hobbit refused to meet his eyes.

"Well," Gandalf interrupted after a small hitch, "what does it matter? You are here now, my dear, and that is all that matters."

"No." Thorin shook his head and finally drew up within an arm's reach to the quiet mistress. "It matters to me. How did you survive? Why… why come back? You could have taken any path away and yet…"

"Do not be dense, Thorin Oakenshield." Bo pressed her lips together tightly. "The dumbfounded look does not suit you. You are, indeed, quite right. There were any number of routes I could have taken, and I decided on this one."

"Why," Thorin demanded again. It was unfathomable, unthinkable; that she would place herself into so much danger, and for what? For what reward now could she have? In death she would receive nothing and yet her eagerness to come to it was wildly disconcerting. "Is it the contract? Do not tell me you still hold onto that argument back in Riven –"

"No, Thorin." Bo interrupted softly. Her gaze leveled with his and he was silenced. Her chin trembled in fear or with doubt, and her brow was knotted painfully over her gaze, but her eyes held him and did not waver. Her body doubted its strength, but her mind was resolved. He swallowed and waited.

She sighed and finally looked to her feet, "You were right, back in Rivendell." She looked to the Company and smiled with pink lips. "I don't belong here, with any of you. I had no… no right, to insert myself where I was not wanted or needed."

"No, lass." Bofur reached for her, but the petite mistress held her hand up and her palm out to stop him.

"Please, Bofur." Her glance to the other dwarf was only a second before she came back around to Thorin, her hand hastily placed back in her pockets. She dug through them and then gently tugged out the key that she had risked life and limb to retrieve.

A wave of relief took him and nearly swept the strength from his knees. Shame soon followed as he realized he felt more relief at the sight of the keys than her. His throat hollowed and he bowed his head to her slightly as she held the key to him from her slender fingers. Her broken hand was hidden away.

"I know what it is like," she murmured to him, her lips a feather's flutter, "I know what it feels like not to have a home, or to have one and never feel your roots take after they have been ripped out." He took the key from her, but his eyes could not leave her face. There was a pinch there, just beyond her cheek, and it held him.

She turned to the others, and Thorin felt a ragged breath escape him. "I know that sense of emptiness, and loneliness… even in a crowded room. To be surrounded and yet still hundreds of lifetimes away." He knew that echo in her voice. He knew that pain, for it had latched onto his soul years ago when he and his people wandered the streets of Men and found no hope. Thorin's fingers tightened around the key and he frowned at Bo.

Her gaze watered. "I know that desperation, that need to find that which fits best, even if there are similar things like it, which are closer and safer." She seemed to say this only to him, but he did not doubt that the others could hear the low pitch of her voice.

She smiled and he could see the blood drip from her scar and how mangled that side of her face had become. She would be a wretch amongst her people. "I want you all to have a home. I want to do whatever I can to help you find it."

Thorin looked away from his key and to the nose of his mistress and his shoulders burned with his burden. She sensed it, or sensed something to it, because she shrugged and leaned away from him with a small grin, "Let's just keep the flying to the thrushes, shall we?"

"I do not suppose you'd be willing for a second chance," Thorin replied, his voice low and uncomfortable in his throat, since his words were unplanned and careless. "You did quite well on the dive."

She blinked at him and then her lips pulled back into a grin as she laughed and Thorin his chest untighten from its self-imposed punishment.

But a howl into the night shattered the fragile moment and Bo's lips paled with fear.

"Out of the frying pan," Gandalf huffed venomously.

Thorin's glare hardened and Bo was unceremoniously passed over to Dwalin. "… and into the fire."


	15. Baptism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more, thank you to all who leave me a few comments to let me know what they think. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it.

The weightlessness that swaddled her was momentary. It was a feeling of utter disconnection and dizziness that she wished never to suffer forevermore. Alas, she had to suffer through it now. She couldn't recall screaming once the Goblin King had released her, but she must have, because her consciousness seemed to regain its bearings and her ears could hear a high-pitched echo that bounced along the rock. The light faded from sight and she was gone.

She had no clue how long or how far she fell. She only knew that eventually a stone cracked against her side with such a force, she was almost certain all of her ribs were broken and her lung punctured beyond repair. Óin would be cross with her for all the damage that was being dealt to her small body. She rolled down through the veins within the mountain, they were slick and smooth and wet. This meant that at least she would come to less harm than before, but she wouldn't count on that just yet.

A touch chilled her muscles straight through her bone and in the darkness she realized that her descent had ceased with a loud pop as she broke the surface of water around her. Now a rush of liquid swallowed her and her head came up to the surface with another scream. Immediately her hands flew to the folds of her shirt and her slick fingers gripped the shape of Thorin's key against her skin. She would not lose it, she just would  _not_.

The river coursed through the mountain unimpeded and wild. The rocks scraped at her limbs and the water grew as cold as to burn the wounds on her flesh. Her body twisted and turned with the current, but she could not tell where she went or how deep into the stone she sank. She could only hope that she stopped soon. As it was, her lungs were beginning to struggle to draw even the smallest of breaths.

It was with a final, violent whip of the water that she was sent cascading down into the depths and she broke the surface of a large body of water once more. A string of panic laced itself around her heart and tightened, for she barely knew how to swim and even then it was no peaceful stream of The Shire. Her arms flailed maddeningly and she gasped with one hand still grasping the key. She forced her shivering body to lunge forward into the water and before long her face hit the grain of land.

She nearly cried from relief. Her eyes burned from the water and she immediately regretted the swipe of her hand to clear away the haze in her vision. Sand and dirt and fine pieces of rock smeared her face and flew up into her nose. She sneezed painfully and the taste of blood came from the top of her lip. In the darkness she could not tell if the blood was from her nose or somewhere else on her head. It would have to wait for better light.

Light,  _my sword!_  But it was not to be; her hand reached to her hip and found nothing. Perhaps stupidly, in her mad dive to reach the key before the goblins snagged it, she had completely forgotten about the usefulness of her butter knife. Anger bubbled in her throat, but she swallowed it back. It was not the time for a temper tantrum of a tween. She struggled up to her soggy feet and shook in the cold. The key was quickly placed away in the bindings of her chest and secured. With care, she took a step forward and felt the ground with the tips of her toes.

There were plenty of rocks, some more smooth sand, and the ground was bitterly cold. It had not seen the light of the sun in centuries, if at all. She could hear the lapping of the lake behind her and she proceeded further into land. She had to find a way out and up, it seemed, and that could take days. She wasn't a dwarf; she didn't have that sense of direction for the stone.

Up and out it was, and hopefully no more creatures of the night.

As her vision adjusted to the thick black of the mountain's stomach her mouth dropped open. The mountain spread out above her in a cave so wide that she could only see the ceiling in certain parts if she strained her eyes to do so. Light flickered from somewhere, an inner glow that was unnerving in its existence and she took measured steps to keep away from it. Light so far within the mountain was a bad thing and she had no wish to encounter anyone else that wasn't her Company.

_My Company_ , she cringed at the thought of them still above her,  _what they must be suffering now, I wonder? May they protect the young ones for as long as they can. May they escape, even if it means they go without me. There must be other ways in that they shouldn't need the key._

She knew there was no other way. She remembered the look of pained surprised on Thorin's face in the warmth of her smial. The key was an unexpected gift and one that Thorin could not waste. No, she had to get the key back to them. Her feet began to lose their hesitation as her vision was assured in the darkness. She would escape, come death or high water.

_Or at least fling myself into the nearest exit and hope they find my body,_ Bo thought with dark humor. The idea of the dwarves coming upon her lifeless form was frightening and hilarious. She snickered in the loneliness of the mountain at another passing thought,  _who would have the nerve to search me? The princes? Never. Thorin Oakenshield most definitely not. Gandalf, perhaps?_

The image of thirteen dwarves sharing pointed looks as to who would search her frail body sent her into a quiet collection of gasps. It should not have been so funny, not when her situation was so dire and immediate. Even so, what wouldn't she give just to know what would happen. The lake slowly disappeared behind her as she walked, the mountain's innards scaled upwards and dried the further she went. She slipped less and was thankful for it; one hand was useful in climbing, the other could only be used as a club.

There was no method to tell time in the dark pit of the mountain, but she knew she must've traveled far when the temperature warmed up and the air was not so tight. It was then that she could hear the ragged breathing in time with hers. Lightning shot through her limbs and froze her with fear.  _Breathing? Who else is here? Another Goblin?_  She would not panic; she could not afford to do so. With a nervous swallow, she continued her climb.

She could hear footsteps, now. They followed her carefully and quietly from behind. As she listened, she could discern the pace of four points of contact on the ground for whatever it was that followed from behind.  _A goblin, then, as they all seemed to walk on all fours; but what is it doing all the way down here? An outcast, perhaps?_  If it was one, then she might stand a chance. Most of the goblins she could recall in her hazy memory were deformed and cruelly misshaped. If this one was an outcast, it must have been horrendously disfigured.

For a moment, she felt sick.  _I don't believe I want to see what the goblins would throw out of their lot._  She was just a bit higher when she came to the sound of another waterfall and the presence of another lake. Light glittered over the surface of the water and Bo could see small pinholes of sunlight that blazed through the mountain's hide. She grinned and her limbs twitched with renewed strength as she pulled herself onto level ground.

It was then that the creature from behind pounced. Without a single cry of warning, a slender and knobby body crashed into her from behind and she cursed herself for the forgetfulness of her mind. She was slammed into the ground and her face pressed into the earth, but she was quick enough to swing her arm back as hard as she could. She must have caught her elbow in the creature's throat, because it gagged and wiggled.

Bo curled her opposite arm under her chest and pushed as hard as she could. The creature on top of her stumbled away and Bo brought her heel up to meet its face. There was a meaty slap that echoed in the dense cave and the creature finally howled from pain. Bo scrambled up from her rear and dashed to the nearest rock face she could find. She had no weapon, but at least Glóin had taught her how to properly swing a painful punch.

She could see pale eyes glow in the darkness and knew this was no goblin. No goblin had eyes that bright or colored, and none were so large and bottomless. Bo gripped onto the rock and slid down the face of it to hide as best she could behind it. Her hands felt around for anything to assist her, any form of sharp rock or pointed stick would be of use. The Rangers had often used such things when they wished to leave no trace of themselves in an attack, and she would do the same now out of necessity.

Instead she found something else. It was cold and hard and smooth. Her fingers slipped around the cool metal and she palmed it carefully.  _A ring? What in blazes is a ring doing all the way down here? And it feels new! So smooth and I can almost see its shine…_  There was a crash from around her rock and without a thought, Bo bolted from her cover to another cove just nearby.

" _You_  can't hide  _forever!_ " The creature shrieked in the darkness. "I will  _find_  you, MY PRECIOUS!"

_Damn thing has gone completely mad,_ Bo snorted lightly.  _Precious? Who does he think he's talking to?_  Bo gathered her nerve and peeked around the corner of her shelter as best she could, but there was hardly anything to be seen, even with the glittering light from the lake. The creature prowled around on the ground by her hiding place and growled as he shuffled along.

"Wheeeere are you, yesss?" The creature called. "I know your hiiiiiddding."

Bo swallowed again and pocketed the ring as quickly as she could.  _A bargaining piece, maybe. Perhaps I could trade my escape for the bit of metal? Would a creature such as him have need for it? Does greed even settle in a mind so gone as his?_  The ring was hidden away and her fingers groped for a rock.

A sharp one nicked her finger and she grasped it readily. She would face this thing, for now she believed it could be the only method of escaping this mountain that existed. She appeared from behind her cover and tucked her rock behind her hip to hide it. The creature that pursued her snarled wildly and spun to face her.

Sadness unexpectedly erupted in her stomach. The creature was malnourished, that was an instant realization. It was twisted and scarred and pale in the dim light, but she knew torment and torture when she faced it. The creature's bones looked brittle as they stuck out from his skin and his lips were blue and stretched. He barely had any teeth and his limbs were pulled like a spider web.

_How did you manage for so long?_  Bo nearly asked, but her tongue touched the back of her teeth and said nothing. Like a snake, the creature prowled around the protruding rocks and came up to her legs, his teeth snapping. In less than a moment, Bo brought out her sharp rock and pressed it tightly to the creature's cheek. His teeth were a few scant inches from her thigh.

"I will have you behave, creature." She stuttered lowly. "Tell me your name."

The creature giggled. "Namess! We don't  _have_  any more namesss! Taken!  _Taken from uss!_ " The turn of emotion from within the mangled creature was whip-fast and took Bo by surprise. Its eyes flew from joy to terror to anger in only a breath of time. It lunged forward again and Bo stumbled back with the rock still focused on his throat.

"My name is Bo Baggins!" She nearly shouted. "I am Bo Baggins, of Bag End."

"Bagss have an end, yess!" The creature smiled and laughed. "We – we care called –  _Gollum! Gollum!_ "

"Gollum?" Bo asked with forced politeness. "That is a unique name. Who is this 'we' that you speak of?"

"It'sss none of itss BUSINESSS!" The creature screamed. Bo felt her limbs shake with fright at the quick dash of change from the creature, Gollum. She could not get a bearing on his state of mind as he floundered back and forth from one end of his emotional spectrum to the next. He was completely mad and she could not hope to understand him.

Gollum slithered around her ankles and snapped his teeth. "We ssshall feast  _tonight_! Yess, yess, my preciouss!"

"You certainly will  _not_!" Bo brought her rock down as swiftly as she could to hit his head, but the creature was much faster. He dodged her blow and rolled through the fine, moist dirt to skid a few paces from her. He skittered about and climbed up onto a rock and now swayed above her head.

"No gamess, preciouss! No more gamess! We are starving…" Gollum let out the most wretched hack from his throat and Bo winced at the sound of it. To live in the darkness of the mountain's stomach with no proper air or light for days, even years, could only do the most horrible things to one's body and soul.

Bo only wished that she didn't have to see the embodiment of it.

"Games," Bo whispered; an idea took a strike at her mind. She turned her gaze up to the creature, "I like games! Would you – do you want to play a game with me? Meals are always so much more rewarding after a game!"  _Bo Billa Baggins, you better win this game or else the afterworld will laugh at your foolish Tookish nature!_ She knew her father would be rolling in his grave at the sight of her, but hopefully her mother would only be laughing.

There was a pause, and silence drifted around them.

"What," Gollum's pale eyes peered over a rock, "… what kind of gamess, preciouss?"

Bo grinned,  _I have you now!_  "Well, all sorts of games! What are some of your favorites?" This time, Gollum's eyes shifted from over the rock and came down along one side. The narrowed pupil within his pale colors widened and his brow softened over his gaze. Bo blinked at the sight of it, for it much reminded her of the dogs that sat before a master for a treat. She wavered slightly in her resolve, unsure as to what had changed.

"Riddlesss," called Gollum from his place. "Riddless, oh yess! They are the mosst tempting!"

"Riddles it is, then." Bo replied softly. "But! Should I win at this game of riddles, you must promise me something."

Gollum scoffed. "Nothing! Nothing to promisse, nothing to give!"

"Show me the way out." Bo interrupted firmly. "Lead me to the other side of this mountain, over the range of the Misty Mountains."

Another twisted laugh, "It doess not know it is almosst there!"

And then, "Shut up!"

Bo felt her heart flutter in surprise. She was almost there? Almost to the exit of the mountain, is that what he meant? Her brow furrowed down to the bridge of her nose and she puzzled.  _Who is he talking to? There is no one else here… is there?_  She prayed they were the only two. She could fend off one attacker, but a second one would be the end of her.

Pale eyes found her in the darkness, wide and innocent. "We sshall play, preciouss. But, but, but! If we win – we sshall have a feast! No ssharing! We eatss the whole thing!"

"… You mean me." Bo did not have to question the logical of insanity. She swallowed and nodded her head, "Very well. If I win the game, you lead me to the exit. Should you win… you get to have a meal of me." The words made her shudder, but she could not hope to find the exit in the mountain by herself. It would take too long and she was already wasting so much of her precious time.

_Precious. Wonderful, now I say it, as well,_ Bo frowned with anger.

"We go firsst!" Gollum cheered and appeared from his hiding place. He grinned with a smile full of gaps and pulled his lips up into a snarl for a moment. "What always runs, but  _never_  walks! Often it murmurs, but never talkss – it hass a bed, but never sleeps! What has a mouth, but  _never_  eatss?"

Of course, it would be just her luck that the creature was not only insane, but intelligent. Bo huffed,  _how often do those two things go hand-in-hand, I wonder._ She sighed and a hand came to her forehead. She could feel the crusty edge of dried mud or blood along her hairline.  _Think, Bo Billa. It runs, but does not walk, it murmurs, but does not talk…_

"Iss it losst?" Gollum was gleefully teasing her as he shuffled around. "Doess it not knooow?"

"Have patience." Bo snapped and dropped her hand. She searched for Gollum, but could not see him. "Riddles take a moment to figure out."

"Not too looong,  _preciouss_. We eatss today!" Gollum growled and a pile of rocks was knocked over as he scurried.

Bo scowled into the darkness as she heard a splash of water.  _Wait a moment!_  "It's a river."

Gollum snarled from somewhere behind her. " _Very_  good,  _gollum, gollum!_ "

"Good. Very good." Bo sighed in relief. "My turn, then. Hum… I drive men mad for the love of me, easily beaten, but never free. What am I?" She was certain her dwarves would be able to answer such a riddle in an instant, for they knew the call of such a thing too well and for too long.

Silence followed her riddle. The creature did not move or sigh and she took a step toward where she had last heard his pattering feet. Bo asked into the darkness, "Do you forfeit?"

"Shut your mouth," Gollum clicked his teeth and his body was a smoke that flew past her feet. Another few moments passed. " _Goooold_. You are  _gold_ , preciouss!"

_Damn it._  Bo growled, "Well  _done._ "

Gollum giggled and grinned at her, "Glittering points that downward thrusst! Sparkling spears that never rust."

"Really?" Bo asked him, amazed. "That's too easy, it's an icicle. I used to play with those." There was a twisted howl of frustration and Gollum swooped in from behind her. She stumbled with a shout of surprise and swung the hand that held her rock, but Gollum only knocked her over and sped away into the emptiness once more.

" _Fine_ ," he griped. "Another! Lasst one! And then we eatss it! Assk your question!"

" _Maybe_ ," Bo corrected as she stood to her feet. " _Maybe_  you eats it – err, eat me. Stop that." She snapped at his glowing form as it fluttered around her. Gollum could only laugh at her discomfort and not for the first time Bo contemplated bashing his head in with her rock.

She sighed and raised a hand to the key in her chest binding. She had to get out, but the creature seemed to know a good deal of the outside world if he could guess at her few riddles. Now more than ever she wished she had her mother's riddle book. Her hand fell away from her chest as despair set in and she shoved her hands into her pockets.

A cold touch greeted her.  _The ring… I could use that._  It wasn't a proper riddle, to be sure, but she had to get out and he had asked for a  _question_ , not a riddle. The only thing to do now was to stump him,  _and then only if he holds up his head of the bargain. Get ready for anything, Bo Billa._

"What… have I got, in my pocket?" Bo asked gently, her ears straining to find the creature. She could feel the tension in the darkness; she had snagged him on her question.

There was a guttural sound from behind. "That'ss not a riddle!"

Bo kept her face straight. "You said I could ask a question, and so I did. Will you answer me, or have you forfeit?" It was a tricky game she played now, for she had changed the rules. Granted,  _he_  had been the one to change them, but she hoped he would not take into consideration that because of her technicality, he could change  _whatever_  he wanted.

He could just eat her now, if he figured it out.

"Give uss a chance, preciouss!" Gollum wailed from above her. "Three guesses!"

Bo's knees shook with relief. He was still playing the game. "Very well, but only three."

"Rope!" Gollum shouted.

"Wrong." Bo answered immediately. She spun around on her heels as she heard a crash of rock off to her left. "Guess again."

A deep growl now echoed to her right. "Hands!"

Bo held her arms out from her side and grinned, "Wrong again!"

"String! No –  _nothing!_ " Gollum roared and it rocked through the stone and thumped into her ears. Bo shook her head and dropped her arms with a nod.

"That was two guesses at once, for a total of four, and you are still wrong!" Bo cheered breathlessly. The blow that she had taken to her ribs earlier was starting to act up and she could feel the bruise form. Her breathing was a chore and her back ached something fierce with as much twisting and turning as she had done.

It was a few moments before she realized everything had fallen completely silent.

"Gollum?" She called to him. "You lost, my friend, and you promised to take me to the other side."

"Did we, precious?" Gollum's voice had leveled out and now his mutterings were black and deep. "Did we promise, but, but – the promise is only good… when the game is played by the ruless."

_Oh, damn it to the pits._  Bo turned by the tips of her toes and ran. There was a tunnel's opening not far from where she stood and it seemed to lead in the direction she needed to go. Gollum's deep shriek followed and dogged her running feet. She slipped into the tunnel and took the sharp turn it forced on her. Bo gasped at the pain in her chest as her heart strained against the curve of her ribs.

" _We eatss it whole!_ " Gollum howled. Bo did her best to run faster, but she tripped over her feet when felt the wispy touch of the creature's fingers on her ankle. She squawked at his touch and tumbled away, the rock flying from her hand and Gollum nearly on top of her.

"I have you!" His hands came to her throat and she was winded by his fall on her battered chest. Her hands found his wrists and he screamed in laughter at her struggle. She grunted and searched for his fingers, and once she found his middle finger on either hand, she tightened her grip and ripped the fingers back.

Gollum yowled in pain and released her. As he flew back to escape her hands, she folded a leg up and shoved her massive foot into his chest. With a gasp, Gollum toppled from her body and away into the dark and dank cave behind them. Bo flopped over on her hip and a glint of metal caught her eye.

_The ring!_  It must have slipped out from her pocket.  _I can still bargain with it!_  She stretched an arm out and flailed her hand at the slip of metal. She finally had it and hooked it around her middle finger.

Abruptly, the world went white, and then grey. With a few blinks of her eyes, the world around her took on a smoky quality and she sat up. All around her a form of clouds seemed to blanket the area and no amount of rubbing at her eyes changed it. She stood with a shake in her knees and exhaled tightly.  _What happened?_

Gollum came tearing out from the cave he had been kicked into and Bo stiffened with a snap of fear. The creature howled angrily and spit in every direction with his tantrum. He spun on his heels and palms and his eyes searched for something frantically.

"Where iss it?!" He crawled closer to her, but did not gaze up at her. Bo held her breath. "Where doess the Bagginss go!"

Bo nearly exhaled again with relief,  _he can't see me! But why?_  She glanced down at the gold ring that rested neatly on her finger. It appeared normal, and no hint of magic came from it as one would expect, such as the power of elves and wizards. She turned her hand over and found nothing extraordinary.

"Come back, Bagginss!" Gollum cried and then bolted off. It took a moment or two before Bo hastily followed. He would lead her to the exit; he must have assumed she ran off ahead of him. She did her best to keep her footfalls quiet and stopped whenever the creature paused. It wouldn't do if she was found now.

The winding tunnel through the mountain gave little in the way of space, but she made due and followed Gollum as closely as she could dare. He relied on his eyesight in such a place, and his nose and ears were of little use to him, it seemed. It would save her in the end, if she could get past him to escape into the sunlight.

Gollum finally came upon a pathway that cut through the mountain. He hissed viciously and dove into the dark shade of a rock as a clatter of passing bodies echoed through the mountain. Bo took a few tentative steps and spied the figures of Thorin's Company as they dashed past Gollum and out of the mountain.

Bo could feel a whine come up into her throat, but she held it. She glanced down to the creature that separated her from her companions and her hands clenched into tight fists.  _What wouldn't I give to have my sword!_  The pitiful creature let out a sob and buried his face in his mangled hands. Bo could see tears trail down his gaunt cheeks and a new form of sadness clenched at her lungs.

_It would serve no one to kill the creature. I couldn't live with another nightmare… I shall have to force my way past him._  Bo inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. The creature must have heard her because it wasn't long after she breathed that his eyes came up to where her face was hidden by the ring. He snarled with bitten lips and gnashed his teeth, but he frightened her no more.

Bo took a flying leap and smacked his head into the rock that covered him. If he passed out, it would give her a head start, at the very least. She didn't turn back to see if her plan had worked. Bo willed her legs to fly and her feet devoured the mountain path under her heels. She twisted and took one final turn before she stumbled out into the open.

A handful of sunlight rays flooded her eyes through the surrounding trees and Bo skipped over a few rocks before coming to a sudden stop against a tree trunk. She gasped shallow breaths and held onto her knees as she bent over. Her bearings were skewed, but she was free, and that was all that mattered. The smell of wind and earth and merciful sunlight bathed her senses and she shuddered with relief.

Now all there was left to do was find her companions.

She began to hobble down the mountainside and did her best to keep her feet beneath her and not topple end over end. The sun was setting quickly down the horizon. She found the rear of the Company just as Gandalf shouted something over the tops of their heads. Bo frowned and wandered up to the group of them, listening intently.

"Do not point your finger at me, wizard!" Thorin growled at Gandalf. The dwarf king took no account of Gandalf's height and glared at the wizard all the same. Gandalf bristled under his hat and rattled in his robe. "She has been a menace and a nuisance ever since we started this journey and now you seek to place blame on the Company who did nothing but keep her safe!"

Bo leaned against the tree just beyond the edge of the Company, her eyes tightly shut at Thorin's words. She had known that she was nothing compared to anyone in the Company. She was no fighter, no warrior, but she didn't think she had dragged them down as far as Thorin believed them to be burdened.

"Keep her safe?" Gandalf retorted hotly, his staff an angry snake with its clack. "Is demeaning her and demoralizing her spirit meant to keep her safe, Master Oakenshield?"

"I only did what I thought would make her see reason." Thorin said lowly, insulted. "It would have worked, too, and she would have never met such a disastrous end if she had only listened to her sense!"

_If that was true, I should have stayed home. I would have never followed you and your lot into the deep._  But she knew such a thought was far from honest. She had seen in them what she felt during the long nights, when the nightmares grew too fierce and her teas were never strong enough. She turned away from the group and bit her lip. She could still go home. She had no supplies, no pack, and no map, but she knew where the Rangers patrolled. In a few days, if she hunted right, she would survive until she found one of them.

Her mind made up, she stepped away from the tree.

"My dear, sweet Bo Billa…" Gandalf lamented lowly. "I never meant…"

_No. I can't leave. They need the key. They are too boneheaded to get through this without a burglar._ Bo turned and marched herself into the group, barely remembering that she had the ring on her finger. She slipped it off and tucked it away into her pocket. She tugged the key out from her chest binding and stashed it alongside the ring.

"Never meant what, Gandalf?" She asked. The Company around her came alive with a jump. They turned to her with wide eyes and she did her best to grin despite the pain that laced her body. She ducked her head shyly as she tasted the blood on her lips. "I look an awful sight, don't I?"

Suddenly she was wrapped in someone's arms. Bofur's scent filled her nose and his braids tickled her face. She gasped with pain as he hugged her, the ribs of her chest protesting, and the dwarf released her. His hands searched her shoulders and length of her arms for more injuries and wounds.

"How!" Bofur demanded of her. "We saw – but lass, we – you  _fell_!" His eyes were bright with panic as he held onto her arms.

"I know." She coughed as her throat went dry with shame, "I was there." She never wanted to worry them. She wiped away at the blood as Óin came into her space and inspected her. He frowned at the sight of blood and continued to check her.

"Bo Billa." Gandalf reprimanded her as he approached. "Now is  _not_  the time for your cheek."

"You sound like my father when you say that." She told him, for he looked every bit of her father as he stood before her with his face pinched in anger. He took a shift toward her and she felt her spine quake with surprise. She knew her sarcasm was going to do no good. "I did fall, truly, and there is enough water down in that mountain to fill a lake."

"It most likely was a lake," Thorin's thunder-roll voice reached her. He moved closer to her and his eyes pinned her with their intensity. "The underground… caverns, they collect rainwater over many centuries…" His eyes roamed over her body and she went stiff at the inspection. She swallowed when his eyes came back up to her face. Thorin spoke gently, "How did you…?"

She reached for her pocket and hesitated.  _Should I… no. The ring is mine, for now._  Óin looked at her hand and then up to her gaze, but she looked away from his gaze.

"Well," Gandalf interrupted, "what does it matter? You are here now, my dear, and that is all that matters."

"No." Thorin rumbled and stepped toward her. For a moment she feared he would make a grab for her, and she didn't think her knees could hold her up if he did. "It matters to me. How did you survive? Why…  _why_  come back? You could have taken any path away and yet…"

_I nearly did. I nearly walked away from you all and proved nothing but my weakness._

"Do not be dense, Thorin Oakenshield." She said instead. "The dumbfounded look does not suit you. You are, indeed, quite right. There were any number of routes I could have taken, and I decided on this one."  _I decided on all of you, because I want to believe that such a thing as a true home exists._

"Why," the dwarf king demanded, his heavy brow darkened his eyes and his lips were pulled into a frown, "is it the contract? Do not tell me you still hold onto that argument back in –"

"No, Thorin." She leveled her gaze to his eyes and she could feel her whole body shake with the effort. She feared his judgment and his opinion, but she would stand her ground. She would not bow out anymore; she would see this through and not just for the ending.

She wanted to see their beginning.

"You were right, back in Rivendell." She glanced around to her companions and half of them winced or turned away from her. They had all heard the argument between her and their king. "I don't belong here, with any of you. I had no…" She swallowed and shook her head. "I had no right, to insert myself where I was not wanted or needed."

"No, lass." Bofur moved to soothe her, but she held out her hand and stopped him.

"Please, Bofur." She flicked her eyes to the other dwarf and he stilled. When she turned her attention back to Thorin, she tucked her hands into her pockets. She felt the cold kiss of the ring and there was a touch of fire in her skin from the connection, but she ignored it. Instead, she curled her fingers around the key and pulled it out.

Thorin wavered with noticeable relief. He ducked his head momentarily and then reached for the key from her fingers. She smiled and murmured as the key slipped away from her, "I know what it is like. I know what it feels like not to have a home, or to have one and never feel your roots take after they have been ripped out."

She looked to her companions, the ones that had suffered with her on this long and tedious journey. They were all battered and bruised as much as her, and she offered them the softest of her smiles. "I know that sense of emptiness, and loneliness… even in a crowded room. To be surrounded and yet still hundreds of lifetimes away."

_I may not have lost my physical home, but I have lost my heart for it. I know now, Bofur, Bifur – Thorin. I know this ache you have when you turn to your kin and feel no peace._ She felt the tears pool at her eyes, but she fought them back as best she could. "I know that desperation, that  _need_  to find that which fits best, even if there are similar things like it, which are closer and safer." She kept her eyes to Thorin's and she hoped he believed her, because she wanted to believe in  _them_.

She smiled when Thorin refused to look away. "I want you all to have a home. I want to do whatever I can to help you find it."

The king finally turned the key over in his fingers and took a pause. His deep blue gaze focused on her nose and when the nerve struck him, he found her eyes. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, for there was nothing left between them. He would accept her now, or he would not.

She met him halfway and teased him openly, "Let's just keep the flying to the thrushes, shall we?"

"I do not suppose you'd be willing for a second chance?" Thorin answered her. She couldn't tell yet if he meant to joke with her, or if he was offering her a true second chance with his Company. He gave her half a smile. "You did quite well on the dive."

Bo blinked and then flashed him another grin at his tease, a laugh escaped her and the tension around her heart released. She stepped forward, but a howl broke through the air and her fingers curled tightly at the sound.

_No, not again!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now after this, back to the action!


	16. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bo's about ready to punch someone. A certain Dwarf-King looks tempting.

"What a fine predicament we've found ourselves in, gentle-dwarves." Bo muttered under her breath. Fíli had taken a hold of the back of her leather coat and hauled her up after him into the trees. Nori soon had her in his arms and he rested her next to him on the branch. The wolf-like creatures below her howled in amusement and snapped at the branches closest to the ground.

"What do we do?" Ori called from a tree over. "We can't fight from up here!"

"And it's not like they're about to leave," Dwalin growled.

"Steady!" Thorin commanded. "Keep away from them as best you can."

"Oh, sound advice, that!" Bo shouted back over the barking. "Think we should invite them to tea when they've settled?"

"Not now, burglar!"

The howling grew closer and the snap of teeth threatened to take feet. Bo curled her legs up onto the branch as much as she could and Nori tightened his arm along her waist. Suddenly, the tree shook and an undignified squawk escaped from her and Bombur. Her hands flew to Nori's vest and the dwarf shouted.

"Damn, they're trying to knock us out!" Nori reached up and pulled himself to a stand. He dragged Bo up and then startled her by looping his arm under her bum and lifting her higher into the tree. "Bifur! Delivery!"

The axe-ridden dwarf muttered something in Khuzdul and took Bo. The hobbit gripped onto the branch unsteadily. "A little warning would be nice, Nori!"

"Oh, warning, mistress!"

"Ass!"

The tree rocked again and Bo promptly snapped her mouth shut and her eyes refused to open. There was harsh laughter from below and Bo peeked to see that the wargs had now been joined by a pack of Orcs and goblins. Bo cursed, "The sunlight was the only thing keeping them at bay."

"We have to get out of here." Fíli howled to Thorin. "Uncle!"

"Here!" Gandalf called from above. The dwarves looked up and Ori's hands were filled with glowing pinecones. "Throw them!"

Ori tossed his to Kíli and caught another one from Gandalf. Soon the others hand their hands full and pinecones flung hastily toward the pack of wargs. The creatures howled angrily and the Goblins sputtered with fright at the light. Some Orcs managed to catch a few cones and throw them back.

"This isn't helping!" Bo screamed as the tree rocked under her arms. "We'll burn to death!"

"Then we'll take them with us!" Dwalin shouted merrily. "Death to the dogs!"

The dry forest around them burst into flame and the fingers of fire quickened through the underbrush. The wargs and their riders were pushed back as fur was singed and paws were scorched. Arrows started to fly through the branches and one nearly scored a hit on Bifur's shoulder and her face.

The tree gave a violent lunge and then, with upsetting sluggishness, it _tipped_. Bo whimpered, but Bifur gave her no chance to go frozen with fear. His hand caught her elbow and he shoved her out into the open air. The wind was knocked out of her lungs as she collided with another set of branches.

"Damn dwarves, manhandling whoever they please." Bo griped. She reached up and climbed up the tree, but she had no chance to find footing. This tree was about to topple over, too. The roots snapped from below and the trunk groaned painfully.

"No, no, no!" Dori yelled as the second tree fell and nearly dislodged him from his place. Ori below him slipped and was caught by Balin to keep the young dwarf from the jaws that surged upward to try and catch him.

"Last tree, lads!" Bofur shouted. "Make it count!" The wargs pulsed around them, their powerful jaws sawing their teeth into the bark and wood of the tree. The goblins fired more arrows into the branches and the Company dodged while the Orcs howled their laughter behind all the chaos.

"Bastards." Glóin hissed. "They're just waiting until the goblins have done their work before they kill everything in sight."

"I don't think sharin' is in their vocabulary, Master Glóin!" Bofur managed to produce more pinecones for Gandalf and sent them soaring further to the backline, startling the wargs that waited in the shadows.

"Someone think of something!" Cried Nori. "We don't have much longer before –" A sickening crack rattled the tree. Instantly, every hand available flashed out to take a grip, some upon the trunk and branches, others to the dwarf next to them.

Fíli's mighty grip all but choked Bo as he forced her against the trunk of the tree for safety. Several splinters had jabbed into her face and neck, but now was not the time to complain. She could see around Fíli's arm and what had alarmed him so.

What stood at the back of the pack, a giant mace in hand was the White Orc of Balin's story. Her eyes grew wide with fear and she looked up to where Thorin was precariously seated above her. Bo twisted a hand into Fíli's coat and hissed, "Don't allow Thorin off this tree!"

"I'm not about to jump to my death, burglar." The Dwarf-king growled from above, shifting.

"Liar," Bo returned with a fierce glare at his underside, "You were just thinking it!"

"I –" But whatever words he thought to slap her with were swallowed as the tree that held them all creaked and then fractured violently like a twig from under foot. Bo's mangled scream was muffled by Fíli's body as he clutched at the trunk of the tree with her body between it and him.

"Hold on!" Fíli warned, but he was jarred from place as the tree crashed to the ground. Bo's hand snaked out and seized his outstretched arm before he fell too far. She grunted with pain as her shoulder protested, but it was ignored and the young prince was pulled up to latch onto another branch.

Bo could hear Dori and Ori scream somewhere behind her, calling for help. The bark under her arms popped off as she desperately tried to find purchase before she fell to her death down the mountain's cliff. A crunch spooked her from her flailing and she looked up to see Thorin's fur covered boot walk past her.

"Don't!" She hissed as she tried to reach his ankle. The tips of her fingers missed him by a narrow touch. Before she could say otherwise, the idiot king took off down the length of the tree at a run, straight for his enemy. Dwalin gave an outcry, demanding that Thorin stop.

"I swear if that demon doesn't kill him," Bo snarled into her arms as she heaved up onto the trunk of the tree, "Then I'll skin him myself!" Her feet slipped on the narrow path of the trunk, but she kept as steady as she could in the path of Thorin. The dwarf had already made it to the Orc and had been bashed to one side.

A second one dismounted and had raised its wicked blade over Thorin's prone body.

_If anyone is killing the stupid bastard,_ Bo thought as she screamed and ran forward, _it's going to be me!_ Her tiny body collided with the foul smelling orc and they both crashed to the ground. An audible 'click' rang in her ears and the long-forgotten muscle memory of her sword practice sparked back into her limbs.

The blade of her elvish sword flew down and speared through the Orc's throat. Like a hammer, she slammed the blade down a second time and the orc's head rolled off with a thud. Her hands and knees were splattered with thick, blackish blood and she stumbled up onto her feet.

The White Orc and its white warg neared her, teeth bared on both faces. She held her glowing blade with an abled arm and stared at the beast, her legs numb and her knees shaking under her clothing. The Orc snarled at her, "Interfering maggot!"

"Only in your corpse, demon." She growled. The white warg lunged forward and she swung tightly and close, her blade chipped at an incisor and rattled in her grip. She stumbled back on her quaking knees and fell beside Thorin. The warg circled and shook out its mouth.

"Mistress…" Thorin choked, his eyes fluttering.

"Shut your fat face," She couldn't look at him, mangled as he was, "we're going to discuss your childish antics later, young man." She stood and could not hear the chuckle that bubbled up pathetically from his chest. He was unconscious by the time the warg brought its piercing eyes back to her.

Not that it mattered, because Dwalin's axe slammed right into its nose. From there, the battle erupted into chaos. The rest of the dwarves (or those that could) had stumbled out from the tree with their weapons at the ready. The wargs snarled and howled with snapping jaws and clashing teeth. Bo turned and almost crouched by Thorin when there was a click of teeth just to her right.

There was no hesitation when she brought her blade around and ripped through the beast's nose. She glared up at the orc-rider and brandished her weapon. There was a moment of stillness and the beast extended its neck for a bite. She shifted to one side, nearly fell over a rock, and brought her blade down in an arc to carve into the long, furred neck.

The rider followed its beast as the animal tripped and the rider pitched forward. Bo stabbed the end of her sword upwards and into the orc's ribs and pushed down as he fell to dislodge her blade. Her arms were coated in the same blood and she could feel dashes of it on her face.

A gust of wind twisted around her and blurred her vision. Bo stumbled away and blinked at the flame and dirt in her eyes. Something swooped by her overhead and there was a pained yelp from the wargs that surrounded her. The dwarves clamored to each other and Bo raised her head to find the source of the ruckus.

It was giant birds. Giant _eagles_.

Her mouth dropped open and she spun on her hip as another of the colossal birds dove toward her. She snatched the hilt of her blade just as the bird caught her in its talons. A meek squeak tumbled out of her throat and then it was followed by a scream as she was _released_.

_Damn bloody bird!_

She fell only for a few seconds, but it was enough to have her swallowing down her vomit as she collided onto the back of another bird below the cliff. She clung to the feathers that flew up into her face and tucked into the space between the shoulders of the birds' wings. Her whole body shook from head to toe and her spine ached as it continued.

It was a while more before she looked up. It was still night time and the other dwarves had been collected from the fire. She shifted along the spine of the bird and counted the heads. She couldn't find Thorin and Fíli's shout for him unnerved her. She followed his line of sight and could spy an arm dangling from the talons of the bird just at the front of the flock.

_Thorin_. She swallowed, _he better not be dead_.

They soared through the clouds and over the reminder of the Misty Mountains for the last few hours of the night. Bo felt her limbs go numb from the cold and she settled into a huddled ball of shaking muscles in the warm feathers of the bird. She could hear the creature coo at her from time to time, but all she managed to do was run her hand over its back to acknowledge it.

Dawn rose and the land under them turned green and lush, wide and jagged with less intimidating mountain peaks, but just as dangerous as the others, no doubt. The birds dove down into a valley and swung around in circles, one by one depositing their charges upon a spike of hill that jutted out from the land.

Bo's bird landed and gently pitched forward, forcing her to roll down its shoulders and onto the rock with a thud. Her body ached from toes to ears and she took a moment to lie there and shudder. The eagle blinked at her with a giant eye, its head tilted one was to better see her. The head shifted and soon a beak gave her a tender poke along her side.

"I'm alright, Master Eagle." Bo was breathless, either from the ride or the fright that had finally caught up with her. She rubbed at her throat and rested a trembling hand on the tip of the creature's beak. "Thank you for the assistance. I shall make sure my companions never forget it."

A click of its beak and the creature flew off with a gust of wind that choked her. She continued to lie along the cold rock, the morning sun not yet strong enough to warm the stone. Bo shut her eyes for only a moment and relished in the feel of all her limbs attached, despite the burning tingles that echoed through her nerves.

_Speaking of nerves,_ she nearly growled. That damn dwarf had a lot to explain, if you asked her. His stupid, selfish, idiotic moment of skewed heroism nearly got him killed and would have abandoned the company without a leader. If it was one thing she learned from the Rangers, it was that you saved your mean before you saved yourself.

"Where is she?" Thorin thundered from lower on their rock. Bo blinked and glanced over to see the thundercloud that was the Dwarf-King storming toward her. _Oh no you don't,_ Bo's heart raced in her ears and she could feel a twitch start in her eye, _you don't get to pin this one on me, you great ass._

She stood as Thorin finally neared her, but he cut her off as her mouth opened, "What did you think you were doing?" He growled, his figure towering just above her forehead. "Did I not say you were a burden? That you did not belong?"

"You can shove off, you pig-headed Highness!" Bo clicked her teeth. "What did _you_ think you were doing? Flying off the handle just as you please! You could have gotten yourself _killed_ ," Bo stepped forward and shoved both hands into the dwarf's massive shoulders, "you could have been _maimed_ ," another shove and this time his furthest foot skidded backwards slightly, " _you_ would have left us all to flounder without you, you great," a punch to his shoulder this time, " _stupid_ ," that grin on his face was infuriating, " _exasperating oaf!_ "

Her arms were trapped against his chest as he leaned over and hugged her. Bo's breath was strangled in her throat and her words dried out on her tongue. The center of his core radiated heat like a furnace and it bled into her frigid skin. She shuddered for a different reason and gently, mindlessly, she brought her arms out from their confinement and wrapped them around his girth as much as she could.

"Thorin?" She whispered nervously into his shoulder. She could still smell the fire and smoke in the fabric of his coat and a shiver of fright went up her spine. The dwarf king had probably lost his mind, she figured, as that would be the only reason he would touch her. _Lost his mind, damned creature._

"I have never been more wrong in my life," Thorin rumbled into her hair, his hug tightening for a moment more. He pulled away and Bo shuddered as the cold morning air rushed in around her. The dwarf grinned at her and she felt her sunburnt cheeks flare. "Thank you, Mistress, for your bravery."

Bo rallied her senses and glared at him, "Y-yes, well. Next time you decide to get yourself killed, come to me, you owe me for all the stupid poppycock you put me through. And stop grinning!" The Company around them rolled with a low thunder of chuckles and laughter and it took everything in her not to sniff and turn up her nose. She adjusted her leathers and clothes and tightened the strip that held her sword in place.

Óin roughed his way through the crowd to her. Bo blinked when the dwarf huffed at her and then took her chin in his grip. Suddenly, a rag dipped in something dark brown was slapped onto her temple and with a violent sting; she was reminded of her injuries. Bo hissed and bared her teeth momentarily.

"Hold still, beastie." Óin clucked, grip sturdy. "Who knows what else you've got broken and bruised? How far did you fall in the mountain?"

"I don't know. I hit a waterfall or a river at some point. I was just jostled by rocks – ow!" Óin had left her to hold the rag to her head and his hands had moved to her ribs. He poked at something just under her last one and the resulting ramble of pain that shot up through her lungs had her skittering away.

"Oh, no, beast. Stay still!" Óin commanded. Bo scrunched up, but Nori shadowed in behind her and held her lightly from under her arms. It was just enough that movement was uncomfortable and Óin nodded his head and tested her ribs.

"How badly is she injuried?" Thorin asked over Óin's shoulder. The healer shook his head.

"I cannot tell, I would have to get under her armors to be sure, and I can't rightly do that with all of you gawking, now can I?" The old dwarf Óin snarked. Thorin pursed his lips and shot Bo a look, but all she could give him was a shrug of her shoulders. Nori chuckled from behind her.

A flutter of birds passed overhead and drew everyone's attention. There hadn't been any animals while they escaped from the caves, but it was a relief now to see a few in the area. Bo grinned, "Thrushes! Normal sized birds, thank Yavanna's grace."

Thorin's face split into another broad grin, "And look, the Lonely Mountain is that much closer." Indeed, the solitary mountain peak stood among the wide landscape like a beacon and Bo wiggled as Nori's hold on her relaxed. She slipped away and stumbled a bit. Thorin took her by the shoulder and Bo silently promised to smother the dwarf-king's face in a bag if he continued to smile at her like he did.

"I'll take it as a sign, wouldn't you, Mistress?"

She was definitely going to need a bag, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Just a little bit further. Short chapter, but I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
